


False Start

by mozzarellastyx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Smut Mention, but there's not actually any smut sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozzarellastyx/pseuds/mozzarellastyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>We made a start, be it a false one, I know...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, where Zayn has a fake boyfriend, Liam loves football, and the other three are along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. False Start

**Author's Note:**

> My first full-length fic!!! Big s/o to [Thalia](http://www.changedmystars.tumblr.com) for cleaning up the mess of my draft, [Gen](http://www.zjm.tumblr.com) for making my amazing [edit](http://www.craziamlove.tumblr.com/tagged/false-start), and [Heather](http://www.empty-altars.tumblr.com) and [Shae](http://www.maurypovichofficial.tumblr.com) for being my cheerleaders. Couldn't have done it without you.

“It’s a ballsy proposition, Malik.”

Zayn snorts, swallowing his bite of apple. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Louis slides him back the paper, leaning back in his chair and looking contemplative. “So, just to be clear, you want to start a fake relationship with someone you don’t even know?”

“To study the student body’s reaction,” Zayn nods.

“Reaction to what?”

Harry joins them at their table, tucked into the corner of the lunch room. He’s all smiles and smells like warm fertilizer.

“Haz, you really do need to make a habit of cleaning up after your farming class before coming to lunch,” Louis complains, pinching his nose shut as Harry plops down next to them.

“It’s not ‘farming class’,” Harry corrects teasingly. “It’s environmental science. And I can’t help the smell of nature. Now Zayn, what were you saying?”

“He wants to date a football player,” Louis explains for him, voice nasally from his pinched nose.

Zayn frowns to object, but Harry just sighs dreamily. “Don’t we all.”

“I’ve got a psychology project,” Zayn clarifies, watching as Louis fans the air around Harry in attempts to lessen the stench. “It’s a semester long, and the only directions are to study the behavior of a large populace. I figured it would be easiest to do the student body.”

“But then what about the dating?” Harry asks, cocking his head so his curls bounce around his face.

Zayn shrugs. “I thought maybe pretending to date someone from a different ‘clique’ might stir up a reaction.”

“You do realize that you’ll actually have to get someone on board with this,” Louis interjects, “someone that will want to pretend date you.”

“Yes,” Zayn grumbles, “I do realize this. That’s the hard part.”

Harry taps his chin, thinking. “I bet Perrie would do it.”

Louis snorts out a laugh. “Harold, it has to be someone that wouldn’t want to physically harm Zayn.”

Zayn chuckles too, looking down at the table. _That_ had been quite the experience, dating Perrie. She’s eccentric, with her bright purple hair and loud voice. A nice enough girl, but not Zayn’s type. She didn’t take the break up well, and maybe Zayn shouldn’t have done it over a text but he was young and stupid. Still, he can’t see her in the hall without receiving a scowl and a toss of lavender locks.

Harry frowns. “I’m just trying to help. Who would _you_ suggest, then? Do _you_ have any connections with the football team?”

He thinks for a moment. “Well, I could see if Niall would want to.”

“No,” Harry says immediately.

Louis and Zayn both look at him.

“He wouldn’t want to,” he says quickly, flustered, tearing  open his yogurt. “I’m sure.”

Louis exchanges glances with Zayn, one eyebrow cocked in amusement and slight confusion. “Well, we could at least use him as a connection.”

Harry’s dimpled smile returns, this time with a hint of trouble. “If you’re going to go for the football team, you might as well go all out.”

Zayn’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Liam Payne,” Louis laughs, following Harry’s line of sight. “What a load, Harry.”

Zayn’s eyes widen in surprise. “Harry, that’s ridiculous.”

“What,” Harry defends, pouting. “He’s actually really nice. I bet he’d be interested.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Louis nods sarcastically. “The star kicker would love to date a scrawny art nerd like Zayn. No offense, bro.”

Zayn snorts. “None taken.”

He lets his eyes wander over to where all of the football players sit, tons of muscle huddled around a single table. He can pick out Liam immediately, leaning back in his chair with a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle up. Soft, feathery curls hang in front of his forehead before a hand reaches up to swipe it to the side. It would rouse quite the reaction if Liam agreed…

But there was no way in hell. Zayn’s never talked to Liam, never even made eye contact, probably. They live in separate worlds, the two of them. It’s a bit too far-fetched, even for an experiment.

“At least promise you’ll try talking to Niall about it,” Harry says to Louis, snapping Zayn out of it.

“Fine,” Louis sighs, defeated. “But if this works, Malik, I deserve credit in all of your scientific findings and shit, alright?”

Zayn offers a lopsided grin. “Deal.”

~*~

Zayn probably wouldn’t have agreed if he actually thought it would work.

Louis’ his best friend, for sure, but Zayn’s learned not to have much faith in what he says he’s going to do. Moreover, the whole plan was ridiculous to begin with. There was no way they were going to get any football player, much less Liam Payne, to join the project. Zayn figured he’d just have to go for a different clique like the track team or something.

Until Louis calls him on Saturday.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s a go’?”

“I mean I got you your man,” Louis says cheerfully.

Zayn has to sit down on the couch, blinking. “You got my man?”

“Niall talked to Liam,” Louis explains. “Said he was down for this whole thing. Turns out Harry was right. Who would’ve guessed?”

“Not me,” Zayn mumbles, trying to absorb the information.

“Right, so, I told Niall you’d come over today to get started,” Louis continues. “I’ve even invited Harry since I can’t bear to leave him out.”

“What?”

Zayn wants to be mad, he really does, but he just can’t find it in him. Louis’ like this, pushy, but only because he wants to help. And he’s so matter-of-fact about it that Zayn has a hard time refusing.

“I’ll take your silence as a good thing,” Louis says. “Be over here in an hour.”

He hangs up without a goodbye, just another Louis thing, leaving the dial tone ringing in Zayn’s ear.

Shit.

~*~

“Zayn’s first boyfriend!” Harry teases, tickling Zayn’s sides as they make their way up the front walk towards Louis’ door.

“Shut up, Haz,” Zayn groans, shoving him off gently. This really is quite embarrassing, and Zayn didn’t picture three other witnesses as this project went down. He didn’t exactly think this through.

“I’m excited,” Harry continues, walking right in. “Liam’s a really nice dude. I think you’ll like him.”

“How do you know him already?” Zayn wonders as Louis’ little sister Felicitie bombards him with a hug.

“He was in my math class last year,” Harry explains, giving Phoebe a kiss on the cheek before the two girls scurry off.

“I didn't expect him to accept,” Zayn admits in a mumble as the two of them head downstairs towards the basement.

“Well, he did,” Harry whispers, squeezing Zayn's shoulder and smiling at the boys already circling the large table Louis’ mom uses for Michigan rummy on Thursday nights.

“So nice of you to join us,” Louis announces, causing Niall and Liam to turn in their direction.

Zayn's met Niall a few times; he’s good friends with Louis from soccer, and he’s in Zayn’s history class. But Liam…it's odd to see him in a place so familiar to Zayn. He seems foreign, like he doesn't belong, and Zayn's brain is having a hard time making sense of it.

“This wasn't supposed to be such a big to do,” Zayn mentions quietly as he slips into a seat next to Louis.

“Well, you know how I do things,” Louis shrugs and, well, it's true. This is very Louis.

“Alright,” Louis starts as Zayn sets his journal full of notes on the table. “I'm sure we all know each other from something or another, but Liam since you're the newest I'll introduce you to the rest of the group. That curly-haired dunce over there is Harry. That's obviously Niall. This is Zayn, mastermind behind the whole ordeal, and me, the-”

“Ventriloquist,” Zayn finishes, shaking his head. “And we’re all his dummies.”

Louis frowns at him. “Rude, but—”

“Accurate,” Harry sighs, having to agree.

Zayn glances up to see that Liam's chuckling, eyes doing that crinkling thing again, like his whole face is lighting up.

“It's nice to meet you all,” Liam smiles and Zayn realizes this is the first time he's actually heard him speak. He's got this almost proper voice, not really what Zayn was expecting but, then again, Zayn wasn't really expecting anything. He meets Zayn's eyes, and where Zayn thought they would be kind of vacant they're rich in color and depth, like there's a whole other world behind them.

“Right, then,” Louis nods, and Zayn blinks out of his trance as Liam’s attention is gained by Louis. “Guess I'll hand it over to you, then, Zayn.”

He clears his throat, aware of all the eyes that turn towards him. He didn’t really imagine it playing out like this. Well, he never really imagined this because he never fathomed Liam would actually agree. But it still feels weird, having the three extra people watching, witnessing Zayn stumble over his words as he tries to explain his jumble of a project idea. It’s not like Zayn _wants_ to be alone with Liam, but if he’s going to make a fool out of himself it sure doesn’t help to have extra eyes.

He turns to Louis for help, hoping the years of communicating through just glances in class pays off and that he understands he needs the space.

Louis holds up his hand to pause, even though Zayn has yet to say a word, and cocks his head like he’s listening to something.

“I do believe I hear my mother calling me,” he announces, standing up. “Niall? Harry? Would you care to assist me?”

Niall’s brow furrows. “I didn’t hear—”

But Louis’ already hauling him up by the collar and dragging him towards the stairs, Harry trotting obediently behind them. Zayn watches them go, realizing as they disappear upstairs that he was dead wrong. Being alone with Liam is _much_ worse.

When he turns back, reluctant, he notices Liam staring at the journal on the table in front of Zayn, squinting like he’s trying to read whatever Zayn’s jotted on the cover in silver Sharpie. He looks up immediately, eyes widened slightly like he’s been caught.

“So,” Zayn starts, clearing his throat again in an attempt to shake the nerves from his words. “Um, I assume Niall’s told you what the basic premise for this is, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods, clasping his hands on the table. Zayn stares at his wide thumbs in order to avoid his warm eyes. “Sounds cool. ‘Ve kind of always wondered how people would react, you know? Like is high school really as cliché as movies make it out to be?”

“That’s the goal.”

He cracks open his journal, careful to flip it open to the correct page because he barely opens this thing for _anyone_ and there’s stuff in there he won’t even let Louis see, much less Liam. Nothing horrible, really, just embarrassing shit that he has no intention of sharing.

“I’ve got a rough outline of the experiment,” Zayn says with a shrug so it’s not so official, sliding the journal to the middle of the plastic table so Liam can see as he explains. “Basically there’s three steps. First, we’ll have to, like, appear together, you know, in the halls and stuff so it’s buyable that we’re, uh, dating.” The word comes out strained because it’s so forced, artificial, and Zayn’s beginning to regret this decision more and more.

“Sounds fair,” Liam nods, eyes trained on Zayn's slanted writing.

Zayn eyes move down from where they were tracing the fuzzy edges of Liam's focused eyebrows towards the journal. “Um, so then we move into the second stage, which is, like, dating. I've set the day for the first date as September seventeenth. So, uh, two weeks from today. Figured that would give us enough time that it'd be believable.”

He watches Liam glance up at him, his eyebrows aloft in amusement, grin playing on his lips. “You've scheduled our first date? Already?”

Zayn shrugs awkwardly, offering a smile of his own. “I mean, I want to have it down. For scientific records, you know. Also if someone asks us when we started dating we’ll have an answer.”

“Oh,” Liam says, blinking. “I guess that makes sense now.”

“We’ll have to be seen together at school or whatever,” Zayn adds, looking down at his finger pressed on the page. “Maybe outside of school, if you're up for that.”

“You should come to my football games,” Liam mentions, staring at Zayn with a pleasant warmth in his eyes like it's such a simple suggestion.

“I don't know—”

“You have to,” Liam decides. “No one will buy the project if you don't.”

Zayn hesitates, biting down on his bottom lip. He's never actually been to a Friday night football game; they're not really his speed. But it couldn't really hurt, he supposes. Just a few hours watching boys run around in pads and tights.

“Fine,” Zayn sighs, jotting it down next to the other notes. He glances up to see Liam’s victorious grin before quickly looking back down, focusing hard on the words he's writing and trying not to snap the tip of his pencil.

“So how long is this project gonna last?” Liam wonders, lounging back in his seat.

“End of semester,” Zayn answers, drawing a quick doodle of a football next to his note. “I was thinking we could break up over break because gossip doesn't spread as easily then. By the time we get back no one will be talking about it and we can go on with the rest of the year like normal.”

“So that's…”

“Twelve weeks,” Zayn fills in, adding little goal posts to match the football because he's trying to keep his eyes trained on something.

“Twelve weeks,” Liam echoes, like he's thinking it over.

Zayn sits up, closing his journal. “I just want to make sure you're okay with all of this.”

Liam’s staring off at something but his attention is quick to turn to Zayn. “What do you mean? Of course I'm okay with it. I said I'd do it.”

“I know,” Zayn sighs. “But like—this is a lot to ask. It's basically throwing away a whole semester of your senior year. I just want to make sure you're cool with it. It's kind of a…weird proposition.”

Liam just smiles. “I'm cool with it, Zayn. Kind of excited, actually. Never been a part of a social experiment. Should be fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods in faux agreement.

He just hopes Liam's right.

~*~

“I think it’s going well,” Louis grins as he slides into his seat at lunch.

“What?”

“Your project,” Louis sighs like it’s so obvious.

It’s funny, Zayn thinks, how quickly Louis, Harry, and even Niall have latched onto the whole experiment, seeing as it originally was supposed to be between only him and Liam. Louis burrows his way into everything in Zayn’s life, it seems, and it was pointless not to include Harry and Niall as well.

It’s been a little over a week since the project officially began, and Zayn has to say he agrees with Louis. He was anxious at the start, of course. No matter how corny it sounds, it’s not exactly easy to go against the status quo. But, as far as predictions pan out, they’ve gotten some good results.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Zayn agrees. “Another person mentioned something to me today. Josh?”

“Friend of Niall’s,” Harry nods, taking his seat next to Louis. The manure smell is particularly ripe today, but Louis makes no comment.

“I got asked about it, too,” Louis mentions, cracking open a bag of Cheez-its.

Zayn pulls his journal out from his bag. “By who?”

“ _Whom_ ,” Harry corrects.

Zayn sends a kick towards his shin.

“Uh, Dan, I think his name is,” Louis answers. “Just mentioned how you were talking to Liam, like he expected me to give him some inside info or some shit.”

Zayn jots that down in his journal, biting his lip as he struggles to word it more scientifically.

“How many does that make?” Harry wonders, peering at the journal curiously.

“Nine,” Zayn states, snapping it shut once he’s finished. “Seven comments, two direct questions. Only three aimed at Liam or me, though.”

Harry frowns. “I’ve only gotten asked once.” He looks pointedly at Louis.

“Don’t look at me, pal,” Louis says, holding his hands up in defense. “It’s our friend Nialler that’s been reeling in most of them.”

“That’s also interesting,” Zayn muses, flipping through his journal absently. “Maybe worth noting, actually. Niall’s more of Liam’s friend, right? It’s kind of telling that he’s asked more than either of you.”

“Telling that we’re losers, I see,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“You can’t be so sensitive,” Zayn says, playfully nudging his knee. “We _are_ the losers in this experiment, remember?”

“Niall is quite popular,” Harry agrees with a fervent nod. “Very outgoing. Everyone loves him. I’m not surprised people would go to him for information. He’s very personable.”

Louis gives him a curious look. “What are you going on about, Styles?”

“I agree with Harry,” Zayn nods as the boy attempts to hide behind his curls. “Having Niall in on this will be advantageous.”

“Oh, there he goes again with the smart words,” Louis sighs dramatically, tossing a Cheez-it in Zayn’s hair. “You’re being too scientific about it. You’re not going to get any real results if it’s forced. Like, I know people have been asking about you, but I’ve seen you and Liam interact. It’s…”

“Stiff,” Harry suggests.

“You don’t know each other,” Louis decides. “That’s the problem.”

Zayn frowns. “What do you suggest, then?”

"Get to know each other,” he says with a simple shrug.

Zayn bites at his lip. “I'm not sure he’ll want-”

“We’ll make it the five of us,” Harry offers. “So that's it's less forced?”

“Great idea, Harold,” Louis cheers, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll go out. Saturday, how bout? Your official first date? A celebration, of sorts.”

He hesitates, still gnawing at his lip. “I don’t know guys. I don’t want to force him into hanging out with us.”

“It’s not forcing,” Louis argues. “He willingly signed up for this shitfest.”

Louis makes a fair point, but Zayn’s not totally convinced.

He glances around the lunchroom, eyes inevitably finding the opposite corner of the room, where too many boys sit at a too small table. It doesn’t take him long to pick Liam out from the bunch, laughing at something Niall must’ve said, judging from the way both boys are busting a gut. It makes Zayn smile a little, lips tugging up against his will.

Liam meets his eyes from across the room, smile softening a little. He lifts his hand to give a tiny wave, a minute gesture that Zayn nearly misses, but doesn’t. He attempts to smile back, quirking his lips up only a little as to not seem too friendly, too eager. Play it cool, Malik.

“Okay,” he sighs at last. “Date night it is.”

~*~

The sandwich shop is busy, like it always is on Saturday, but not super packed as Zayn follows Louis and Harry to a booth towards the back. This place has been around for as long as they can remember. With its fresh bread, meat, produce, and homey atmosphere, the sandwich shop long since drove away any Subway or Jimmy John’s competitors. They’ve been meeting here since their friendship began. Even when they were young and couldn’t afford anything off the menu, the three of them would come in and camp out in the back booth, scheming and drawing treasure maps and causing trouble.

“Nick’s coming home for the weekend,” Louis mentions as they slide into their normal spots: Louis first, then Harry, and Zayn across.

“Oh, your college boy,” Zayn teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis rolls his eyes but he’s obviously pleased by it. “Wish I could go visit him, though. His college town is a lot cooler than this dump, I can tell you that.” He snaps his fingers like he’s got an idea. “We should go up some weekend, the three of us. You can tell your parents you’re touring the college, or some shit. Nick could totally get us into some parties. He was telling me all about the first weekend and how every frat throws enormous parties, trying to outdo each other. Did you know that they—”

“Lads,” Niall’s voice booms behind them.

Zayn watches Harry smile before turning to see Niall and Liam making their way over. Niall moved from somewhere in Ireland a few years ago, but he still can’t seem to shake his native accent. Zayn kind of likes it, though. It fits him. Harry seems to like it too.

“Hi,” Harry greets, drawing out the word as the two boys join them.

Niall squeezes in next to Harry, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. Harry’s smile widens as Niall scoots in, their shoulders pressing together. There’s plenty of room for Harry to scoot closer to Louis, giving Niall a bit more space, but he either fails to see this or completely ignores it. Either way, Niall doesn’t look too uncomfortable.

Liam takes a seat in the only open spot, right next to Zayn. Which, it makes sense, seeing as they’re dating now. Of course they would sit next to each other. Zayn’s just not totally used to it, fidgeting as he and Liam exchange polite smiles.

Paddy brings them their usual order, plus two extra sandwiches for the newcomers. Louis and Niall keep most of the conversation going, bantering off each other like they’ve been friends for years. Harry mostly keeps his eyes glued on Niall, bright green and boring into the other boy’s face. Liam adds a few things here and there, but not as much as Zayn would’ve anticipated. He thought Liam would be chatty, considering how the few times he saw him in the lunchroom he was surrounded by people. But he’s relatively quiet, crunching his way through a bag of chips and just listening, like Zayn does.

“You bring your journal, Malik?” Louis asks him.

Zayn snaps out of it, focusing back in on the conversation. He feels Liam glance over at him for the first time since he sat down. “Journal? Uh, yeah, actually—” He rummages in his backpack that sits by his feet for a moment before pulling out the tattered thing. “Why?”

“Wanna hear what’s in it,” Louis says, squinting into his chip bag before pulling one out and popping it into his mouth.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, hand closing around it protectively. “I’m sorry?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Not everything in it, you nut. Don’t really care to hear half the sappy crap you put in there.”

“Louis,” Zayn warns, more whines, in a low tone.

“Just wanna hear the project stuff,” Louis tells him, shaking his head like Zayn’s a bit insane.

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, nodding eagerly. “What’ve you got so far?”

Zayn blinks for a second at the expectant faces in front of him before flipping the journal open, turning to the correct page and hesitantly pushing it onto the table.

Louis snatches it up right away, and Zayn all but lunges for it. He’s not used to having people touch it, much less read from it, and just the thought makes his heart thump into his throat. He snatches the top and rips it from Louis’ hands, causing Louis to look up in surprise. Really, he should know by now.

“There’s not much else you guys haven’t told me to write down,” Zayn hurries with a shrug. “Just, like, what people have said.”

“You’ve received the most comments, Niall,” Harry tells him with a smile.

Niall grins, letting out a laugh. “Really? Hasn’t seemed like that many.”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “Seems like people are more reluctant to approach Liam about it, so Niall’s the go-to resource.”

“That’s true for all gossip,” Liam adds with a chuckle, futzing with his straw.

“Oi,” Niall protests, nudging Liam’s shin under the table. “I’m just well informed, alright?”

"What's the next step?" Louis wonders.

Zayn blinks. “Uh, well, I guess it’s kinda up in the air? Like, there’s not much more we can do besides wait and record stuff.”

“Zayn’s coming to the game on Friday,” Liam adds with a grin. His comment surprises Zayn a bit, and by the looks of it Harry and Louis too. Louis raises an eyebrow at Zayn, and Zayn casts his gaze downward at the table.

“Wicked,” Niall cheers. “I take it you lot will be there too?” His question is directed towards both Harry and Louis but his attention goes to Harry, pressing an elbow lightly into his side.

“Definitely,” Harry nods fervently with a breathy smile, although he’d never mentioned plans to go previously.

“I take it we are,” Louis mutters, still staring at Zayn with a pointed look, eyebrows drawn together. Zayn doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You can take Nick, then, Louis,” Harry reminds.

Louis’ gaze softens a bit at the mention of his boyfriend, but he’s quick to mask it with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, Harold, I’m sure Nick would love to go to a high school football game on his weekend home.”

Harry shrugs, happy lips pulling into a slight pout. “You never know.”

Louis opens his mouth like he’s going to respond but stops himself. Instead, he says, “Alright, so we’re all going to sweat our asses off at a football game. Then what?”

Zayn shrugs. “Then we wait.”

~*~

Friday, of course, is one of the muggiest evenings of the month. Zayn can barely move without breaking a sweat in the cut off tank top that hands loosely off his sticky torso. The weather seems to be affecting Louis, too, who’s snappy even with Nick making condescending comments by his side.

“I remember my high school days,” he drawls as they make their way around the stadium to the home side of the field.

“As if you didn't graduate a few months ago,” Harry mutters next to Zayn, causing Zayn to stifle a chuckle.

“Was never really into this whole ‘football’ thing back then either,” Nick goes on, glancing at the field with a lifted nose.

“None of us are,” Zayn snorts.

“Then why on earth are we here?” Nick inquires.

Zayn pauses, giving Louis a panicked look.

“Because Harry wanted to see his boyfriend Niall,” Louis quips easily.

Harry frowns. “He's not my boyfriend. He doesn't even like me.”

Zayn opens his mouth to try and rid the other boy of his pout when there's a crackle from the large speakers above them.

“Maybe we should find some seats?” Louis shouts over the boom of the announcer.

Zayn looks warily into the stands filled with parents and classmates. “Looks kind of packed? Maybe we should stay down here.”

“But my legs are tired,” Louis whines, leaning on Nick’s shoulder.

“No, Zayn's right,” Harry decides with a glance at him. “We’ll be able to see better from here.”

They stand along the chain link fence that separates the fans from the track that circles the field. Zayn’s palms dig into the metal with a tight grip; even _it’s_ warm in the September heat. It’s not that Zayn doesn’t _want_ to be packed against his classmates like sardines—actually, that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. He’s not exactly fond of a lot of them, and he’s sure they share the feeling, or lack any altogether. Either way, this project is making him feel kind of righteous, in a sense, like they’re all pieces in his little game.

“You see him yet?” Harry asks, sidling up next to him, gazing at the long row of players in ridiculously tight pants lining the edge of the field. Some of them jump up and down, twisting their torsos and stretching their legs to prepare. Zayn has to contain an eye roll.

“Haven’t exactly been looking,” Zayn mutters, wondering why he couldn’t have picked a fake boyfriend from a less stupid sport. So, any other sport, basically.

He’s got his helmet on, and full uniform and everything, but Zayn can clearly see the blocky white _79_ on the back of his black jersey. He watches, gnawing at his bottom lip as Liam sets the ball in the tee once more to line up his kick. It’s kind of mesmerizing, the strict way Liam takes one large step back and two sharp steps to his left, like it’s mechanical, like he’s been doing it for years. He gives a little hop, a little bounce in his knees before he takes two quick step forward and swings his leg, pure muscle sending it sailing into the net so hard Zayn’s sure it will rip straight through.

“Kinda hot, right?” Harry giggles, nudging Zayn with his elbow.

Zayn blinks, swallowing the dryness in his mouth. “I’m indifferent.”

Harry hums with a nod, giving Zayn a sideways glance and pressing down the smile on his lips. Zayn scowls.

Louis and Nick leave to go get concessions—and to probably make out behind the bleachers—so it's just Zayn and Harry standing there as the players begin to line up on the sidelines, the announcer’s voice still crackling out of the speakers above.

Zayn watches as Liam and another player step forward to meet a referee and two players from the opposing team in the middle of the field. He barely notices the swaying of the figures in front of him, black-clad boys linking together and shifting side to side to the beat of the building music. He's mostly focused on the _79_ and the fact that the uniforms must distort a lot of things because Zayn doesn't remember Liam being so broad and tall.

The speakers shake with something about winning a coin toss, but Zayn’s brain, for some reason, can only focus on the “Captain Liam Payne” that seems to reverberate between Zayn's ears and the unmistakable flash of a smile he can see under the boy’s helmet. He's surrounded by the other players, suddenly, engulfed in a sea of black jerseys and disappearing beneath the waves. Zayn can't tell which white helmet is his in the bobbing mass.

“Couldn't find Niall,” Harry mentions with a disappointed frown, snapping Zayn out of…whatever he was in.

“Can't tell anyone apart,” Zayn says with an unhelpful shrug.

“You can tell which one is Landon because he's about fifteen feet tall,” Harry giggles, nodding to a head sticking up much farther than the rest.

Zayn lets out a snort, smile tugging insistently at his lips. “You'd still climb him like a tree.”

Harry knocks him with a hip. “Would _not_. I'm not into him anymore.”

"Who are you into, then?” Zayn asks as if he doesn't already know.

Harry opens his mouth to respond but is saved by the loudspeaker and the rush of players onto the field. He turns to watch excitedly, previous conversation fluttering away. The crowd cheers behind them, stomping on the rattling metal bleachers. Zayn cringes a bit at the cacophony, finding it a little unnecessary for a lousy game. He turns his gaze from the blazing sunset to the field, where the players are lining up nose to nose.

“There’s Liam,” Harry mentions, pointing a little way down field where a figure it setting the ball on a tee.

Zayn’s eyes focus in on him, watching him take a few calculated steps backwards like before. He’s meticulous, the way he moves with such focus and precision. He raises his hand in the air, glancing up across the field before closing in on the ball and sending it soaring towards the other team, where a scrawny player in white dances under it, watching it fall and fall before managing to catch it at the last second (and by catch, it more falls into his arms conveniently).

“And they’re off,” Harry mumbles excitedly, hands gripping the chain links.

Zayn lets out a little snort at his enthusiasm. It’s just a stupid game, really.

Harry seems to know more about this stupid game than Zayn expected him to. Knowing Harry, he probably studied up just to impress Niall with his knowledge. He’s nothing if not devoted.

Zayn, on the other hand, knows nothing about it. The whole first half is just a blur of black and white and whistles and “first downs”. Zayn can’t really do anything but watch in a state of confusion that he tries to play off as apathy.

Louis and Nick finally come back right as the first half is ticking to an end. The score reads 9-0, and Zayn picked up enough to know that Liam scored all nine of those points. He feels a small swell of pride in his chest for his boyfriend—no, _not_ his boyfriend, his _fake_ boyfriend. Either way, Liam’s crushing it and the rest of the players seem to be falling behind.

“False start,” the ref’s voice booms through the loudspeaker. “On the offense. Five-yard penalty. Replay second down.”

“Your boy’s doing good,” Louis mentions, slinging an arm around Zayn.

“ _Well_ ,” Harry sighs.

“He’s _not_ my boy,” Zayn grumbles, shoving Louis off. He smells like nachos and Nick’s obnoxious cologne.

“He kind of is,” Harry agrees with a grin.

“You both are ridiculous,” Zayn mutters. “It’s all fake, you know that, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning into Nick’s chest. “Yes we know that, you dolt. But it’s fun to tease. You get really angry and defensive and your face scrunches up. Yeah, just like that!’

“You two are the worst,” Zayn groans.

Louis shrugs like this isn’t news—it isn’t, really—and Harry bites away a giggle. Zayn wonders why he’s even friends with these weirdos.

The second half goes pretty quickly up until the end, when each team starts cranking out their timeouts. The clock ticks down for two seconds and then stops for two minutes as each color huddles around their coaches on opposite sidelines.

“This is taking fucking forever,” Louis moans, pushing back his sweaty bangs. “We’re winning by fifteen points, what the fuck is the point? Do they think if they huddle up for long enough they’ll think of some play that could possibly win the game for them in the minute remaining?”

None of them answer, too hot and tired from standing to even bother replying to Louis’ agitated rant. It does feel like an eternal hell, though. Zayn can’t even imagine how miserable it is under all of those pads and jerseys.

It finally ends, much to their relief. Louis and Nick leave in the last few seconds, saying something about going to cool down the car (which is a bullshit excuse to make out, but Zayn doesn’t have the energy to confront him). Harry and Zayn hang back, squeezing through the crowds in sheer hope that they’ll run into Niall and/or Liam.

Niall spots them first, grabbing Harry by the collar and pulling them out of the crowd. He and Liam are both soaked in sweat, hair matted down on their foreheads. Niall’s still got his jersey on, but Liam’s only in a tight Under Armour shirt that Zayn’s eyes are avoiding at all costs.

“Congrats on the win,” Harry grins.

“We’d still be out there playing if it wasn’t for this guy,” Niall mentions, clapping Liam on the neck.

Liam chuckles, looking down at the concrete.

“We should do something to celebrate,” Harry mentions with excited eyes. “I think Louis said something about crashing his neighborhood pool.”

Niall’s happy face falters. “Usually Liam and I hit up the party at Josh’s—”

“I’m down,” Liam interrupts, looking back up at Harry then Zayn, offering him a little smile.

Zayn swallows. “You should go to that,” he says quickly. “I don’t want to stop you from your rituals—”

Liam shakes his head. “I should hang out with my boyfriend.”

Zayn’s throat goes kind of dry and he’s blaming that and his flushed cheeks on the heat because surely he's not reacting to how Liam just called him his boyfriend. It’s fake, Zayn knows it’s fake, it’s just—he’s never really been someone’s boyfriend. Even with Perrie, that was more of a fling.

“You don’t have to,” Zayn stutters.

Liam nods. “We’re gonna. Niall and I will go get showered up and meet you in a bit, alright?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry agrees for him.

The boys part with smiles as they pushed through the crowds towards the field house. Zayn follows Harry out of the stadium, tummy still churning with these ridiculous and relentless butterflies.

Maybe he has heatstroke.

~*~

The pizza place is a lot more crowded than Zayn prefers, but they somehow snag a booth near the back away from all the noise. Liam slides into the seat next to him, hair still damp from a quick shower. He smells like citrus.

They order a few pizzas for the table. Niall’s going on and on about the game, Harry's listening intently, and Liam’s guzzling down slices like he hasn't eaten in years. Louis and Nick disappeared after the game, and Zayn doesn't really want to know where they are. So he just sits, picking at a slice and doing what he usually does: listen.

“Did you enjoy the game?” Liam asks, turning to him suddenly.

Zayn shrugs. “It was hot.”

Liam raises a brow.

“—outside,” he amends hurriedly. “It was hot outside. Kind of miserable, actually.”

Liam giggles into a napkin as he wipes his mouth. “Yeah, it was kind of a bitch to play in. I expected the offense to score at least once, though. Not looking too good for the rest of the season.”

“I thought you were on offense.”

There's a pause before Liam's laughing again, and Zayn wishes he hadn’t asked that, hadn't thought of this dumb project, hadn't been born, really. Liam’s eyes twinkle, nearly disappearing under crinkly eyes and pinched cheeks.

“I'm on special teams,” he explains through a few last chuckles.

“I can see why,” Zayn mumbles, earning a light elbow to the ribs.

"Play nice," Liam tells him with a grin.

Zayn has to smile too. He opens his mouth for a cheeky response but then Louis’ there, squeezing himself in next to Niall and pushing Harry up against the wall. And he's alone.

“Where's Nick?” Harry wonders, looking around.

Louis just shrugs, and by the look on his face and his defensive body language it's evident he doesn't want to talk about it. He grabs a slice of pizza and starts chomping away, glancing around the restaurant distractedly.

“Alright, nice to see you too, Louis,” Harry mutters, shaking his curls. Zayn watches a subtle eye roll from Louis, but surprisingly there's no snappy comment to accompany it.

“Hi Liam.”

Zayn glances up from his plate to see three girls standing at the end of their table, grinning and batting their long lashes. He frowns automatically. Long lashes are his thing.

“Hi,” Liam grins amicably.

“Great job tonight,” the lead one smiles, tracing her finger on the table absently.

“Thank you,” Liam says, smile widening.

“You're probably going to get a lot of recruiters soon,” one of them mentions. “From colleges.”

Liam shrugs. “Hope so. Dunno if they’ll be super interested in me, though.”

“Oh they definitely will,” one assures, nodding quickly. “You're amazing.”

Liam's almost… _bashful_ , which is weird because Zayn always pictured him as at least a little conceited, pictured all football players like that. He's smiling and ducking his chin now, though, in a way that has Zayn wondering what other snap judgements he’s made that were totally false.

“Thanks,” he says again, and if Zayn squints he can see a pink rising to his cheeks.

The girls depart with lots of giggles and little waves, leaving a cloud of perfume in their wake. Zayn glances up to see Louis looking at him, trying to hold in a laugh. Or a burp. Zayn can never really tell.

“What?”

“You've really got that ‘get away from my boyfriend or I'll turn you into dust with my laser eyes’ look down,” Louis tells him with a chuckle. “Have you been practicing?”

Zayn swallows as the others giggle around him. Even Liam's chuckling, cheeks tinged pink. Zayn just frowns at all of them and takes a large bite of pizza to avoid answering such a ridiculous question.

They really are the worst.

~*~

Liam’s standing by Zayn’s locker at the end of third period like he does every day, leaning on the green metal with one foot propped up for balance. He’s scrolling through something on his phone but looks up when Zayn approaches, offering a smile.

It's still really foreign, having Liam—or anyone, really—waiting for him. Even Louis and Harry don't go out of their way to see him between classes. So there's still a little flutter of nerves in Zayn’s stomach when he sees him there, still a gut feeling like he doesn't deserve it.

“How was your math test?” Zayn wonders, twisting the knob on the lock.

Liam grunts with a shrug. “Eh.”

Zayn frowns, changing out his biology book for English. “Why do you say that?”

“Because all math tests are bad for me,” Liam says again, futzing with the next locker absently. “But— whatever. How was bio? Did you dissect the cat yet?”

“That's not until next semester,” Zayn explains, shutting his locker. “But it was fine. I…”

Liam looks over at him expectantly as they make their way down the hall.

“Dan mentioned something,” he starts slowly, trying to grasp the right words. “He said something about us never being seen out together…alone. Specifically, he asked if we ever went out not in a group of five.”

Liam frowns a little, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “Huh. I guess we haven't, really.”

“Yeah,” Zayn lets out a breath. “Which, I guess might be suspicious.”

Liam nods, thinking as he stares down the hall. “I never really thought about it.”

“So I think…” Zayn bites at his lip. “I think we should probably go out—alone. Solely for project purposes, but…”

He waits for Liam's reaction, for him to reject the idea and the project altogether, to admit he's uncomfortable with the whole thing. Zayn wouldn’t blame him.

“We could go see the new Captain America movie,” he says instead, dodging a scrawny freshman. “I've been too busy with football and shit to find a time to see it, but now I have an excuse.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “You'd be okay with that?”

“Of course,” Liam says with a nonchalant shrug. “Why wouldn't I be? I'm doing this willingly, you know.”

“Right,” Zayn nods, blinking. “I just—yeah, okay, Captain America. I'm game.”

“Wicked,” Liam grins. “I'll see you, then?”

Zayn nods as Liam turns for his classroom. “See ya.”

~*~

Zayn doesn't really know why he's so nervous on Saturday, watching Liam’s rickety station wagon pull into the cracked driveway. It could quite possibly stem from the fact that this is Zayn’s first real date and it isn't even a _real_ date. But probably not.

Liam's car smells like a mixture of sweat and cologne, not altogether surprising considering there are football pads in the backseat and about three empty bottles of body spray in the middle compartment. Liam’s smiling as Zayn enters, hair still a bit noticeably damp, collar of his plaid shirt folded in like he was in a rush to get here. Which, he probably was, seeing as he's a few minutes late. Zayn doesn't mind, though. He's always late.

“Sorry I'm late,” Liam mentions as Zayn buckles up. “Practice ran over.”

“You guys practice on the weekends, too?” Zayn wonders, trying to settle his stomach at least a little as Liam pulls out of the driveway.

“Every day but Sunday,” Liam nods, fingers thrumming on the wheel along to the Usher song that plays lightly through the speakers. “Two-a-days are particularly brutal, but we only have those in the summer.”

“Seems like a lot,” Zayn comments, watching trees past through the window.

“I think it's more work than most people assume,” Liam shrugs.

“Sounds like it,” Zayn says, fiddling with his rings.

"But it's worth it,” Liam continues. “Think we might have a chance at the playoffs this year. As long as Rooney doesn't fuck up too bad. If he can just hold onto the ball and get far enough down field, I can take it from there. Our O-line always sucks, for some reason. Personally I think it's a coaching issue, but Winston is so far up Higgin’s ass that he’ll never be replaced. Glad special teams has Mahon, or I probably wouldn't be playing anymore. Coaches can really make or break a team. In Winston’s case, break.”

Liam lets out a deep breath, glancing at Zayn before returning his eyes to the road. “Sorry I've been talking so much.”

“That's alright,” Zayn smiles. “I can tell you're passionate about it. It's nice.”

“What're you passionate about?”

Zayn watches Liam’s grip on the steering wheel as he thinks.

“Art, I guess,” he shrugs. “Music.”

Liam looks over, eyebrows up in interest. “What kind of music?”

“RnB kind of stuff,” Zayn says, fingers dancing absently on his thighs. “R. Kelly, Justin Timberlake, and older stuff too, like Michael Jackson.”

“Wicked,” Liam grins. “I listen to that too. Feel free to plug your phone in, by the way. This is just playing from a random playlist.”

“I love Usher,” Zayn assures him.

“That's sick,” Liam says. “We have, like, the same taste in music.”

“And superheroes,” Zayn mentions with a smile.

He likes how excited Liam's getting over this, like an oversized puppy who’s just found another friend to play with. It's rubbing off on Zayn, who can feel his own smile widening.

“I've been wanting to see this for weeks,” Liam sighs, pulling into the crumbling parking lot of the theatre. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to come see it.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zayn replies, carefully unbuckling himself and pushing open the sticky door.

"You think the project’s going well?” Liam wonders as they crunch across gravelly pavement.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “I'm surprised, actually. ‘Ve got more notes down than I expected to. Should have plenty for my write up at the end.”

“Good,” Liam says, holding the door open for him. “Plus, we’ll probably get some more after today, I assume.”

“Hopefully,” Zayn breathes.

Liam is just…comfortable. He converses with ease, talking all the way through the lines at the ticket counter and concessions so that it's not until they're sitting in their seats that Zayn remembers it's a date and that he should be freaking out.

But he's not. He’s freaking out a little, yes, but that's solely because of Captain America, and Liam's doing the same. He wants to laugh at how nerdy they must look. Liam’s got his Cap shirt on, for fuck’s sake, and Zayn’s got his Bucky case on his phone.

Through the previews Zayn's acutely aware of Liam next to him, arm resting just inches from his own. But when the movie starts, he's transported into another world, far away from Liam and his own anxious thoughts. He’s always loved movies for this magical aspect, but Marvel seems to hit this especially well.

It's not until the credits have finished rolling, leaving a black screen in front of them, that Zayn’s transported back to his own body. He glances over at Liam, who’s blinking at the screen as well.

It takes them a few minutes to even grasp any words as they make their way back to Liam’s car in a daze.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods.

“I just don't…”

“I know.”

They slide into their seats, car hot from baking in the late afternoon heat. The last of the sun is fading just behind the tree line, leaving a hazy, stifling dusk.

Liam stares at the wheel for a moment. “Should we go see it again?”

Zayn snorts out a laugh at that, causing Liam to crack a sheepish grin as well.

“Just a suggestion,” he shrugs, starting up his car.

It seems like they've had enough time to properly absorb the movie because they both begin breaking it down, explaining their take on the plot and the actions of certain characters and how on earth it's possible that Chris Evans gets more muscular for each movie. They're talking so much, in fact, that Zayn doesn't even realize Liam’s pulled up to a McDonald’s until he's rolling down his window to order.

It feels normal, sitting in Liam’s car in the McDonald’s parking lot eating hot fudge sundaes (with double fudge, as Zayn insisted), feels like one of those things that they do all the time. Liam steals Zayn’s packet of peanuts, and they both giggle way too much over the nut jokes passed between them.

“Favorite color.”

“Green. Favorite month.”

“December. Favorite song.”

“Thriller. Favorite superhero.”

“In comics or movies?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, pulling the plastic spoon from his mouth. “There’s a difference?”

Liam lets out a little exasperated sigh. “Of course there’s a difference. As in, the Spider-man comics are way better than any of the movies.”

“Fair,” Zayn gives him. “Alright, then, favorite superhero in the original comic form.”

“Spider-man,” he grins.

“What about movie-wise?”

Liam has to think for a minute. “Batman, probably.”

“Same, actually,” Zayn mentions, trying to scrape the last of the fudge off the inside of his cup. “But I prefer Marvel as a franchise.”

“Favorite book?”

“Harry Potter series.”

Liam’s eyes go wide, and Zayn blinks in hesitation.

“I love Harry Potter,” Liam grins.

Zayn snorts. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Liam gushes. “I get Gryffindor in every House quiz I take.” His chest puffs out at that a little, and Zayn has to hold in a smile. “What about you?”

Zayn shrugs. “Depends. Sometimes I get Slytherin and sometimes I’ll get Ravenclaw.”

“Maybe you’re one of those borderline people that take a long time to get sorted,” Liam suggests. “You know, the ones that can sometimes sway the Hat like Harry did.”

Zayn really does smile this time, staring down into his cup. “You’re a lot nerdier than I would’ve guessed.”

“’Cause I play football?”

Zayn nods, glancing up to see Liam’s reaction.

The boy just shrugs, leaning his head back against the window. “I guess I’m kind of different from the other guys on the team. Niall and I—we don’t really…fit in as well, I guess.”

Zayn’s brow furrows in confusion. “But all of them love you. They all, like, swarm around you at lunch.”

“Just ‘cause I’m good,” Liam half shrugs. “I score points for them.”

Now Zayn’s frowning. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Liam lets out a humorless laugh. “You obviously don’t know them, then. They’re all idiots and just talk about, like, girls and drugs and getting shitfaced. I just don’t really fit in with that. It's not horrible, it's just like—dunno.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Well, I’m lucky to have gotten you to do my project over any of them,” Zayn says, and even though his voice is soft and there’s red creeping into his cheeks, he’s sincere. He would be screwed with anyone else.

That makes Liam smile a little, ducking his head and twirling his spoon absently. There’s more silence that’s not awkward but more of a hush between them. Then Liam asks, “Should we head home?”

Zayn nods, placing his sticky cup in the cup holder next to Liam’s. Liam shifts the car into gear, music starting up again as they roll out of the parking lot. Usher breaks the silence between them, creating a lull in the dark car. Zayn feels almost cozy, mouth still sweet with ice cream as he watches the street lights flash by.

Liam pulls into Zayn's driveway as Usher croons about a lost love.

“Thanks for the, uh, fake date,” Zayn mentions, fumbling with his seatbelt.

Liam’s usual cheerful smile is back again. “No problem. I had fun.”

“I did too,” Zayn agrees, popping open the car door. “Think I'll have to pirate that movie soon.”

Liam giggles, nose crinkling. “Get out, you criminal.”

Zayn chuckles, soles of his Docs slapping on the pavement. “I'm going, I'm going.”

“See you at school?”

Zayn nods. “See ya.”

He shuts the door gently, making sure it clasps closed before retreating up his driveway towards the front door. He glances back, nearly blinded by the headlights of his car. Through the brightness he can see Liam's fingers waving to him over the steering wheel. Zayn gives a little wave back, watching the light glow off of Liam's smile, before turning back towards the door.

~*~

“It worked.”

Zayn nearly drops his books, startled by the sudden voice behind him.

Liam sidles up alongside him, grin bright in the fluorescent lights bouncing off the linoleum tiles.

“What worked?” Zayn asks him, watching Liam rake a hand through his feathery mane.

“Our date,” he says, dropping his voice but keeping the grin. “Someone told me she saw us. She was at the movies and tried to get our attention but I guess we were kind of into our conversation. Plus, I’m pretty sure I had a mouth full of Red Vines at that point.”

Zayn shuffles around the books in his arms until he finds his journal. He has to stop against the wall to search for a pen until Liam hands him one. He flips to a fresh page of notes.

“Okay, back up,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “Who talked to you?”

“Jesy,” Liam replies easily, resting his back on the wall next to Zayn, shoulders just brushing.

Zayn starts jotting things down, asking Liam questions about when and where, exactly. It’s actually kind of exciting and a little bit relieving, that everyone is buying this entire thing. Their fake date worked.

Except it didn’t feel fake. That’s the problem.

“Alright,” Zayn sighs, snapping his journal shut. “I think I have everything I need. Make sure you tell me everything people say so I can record it.”

“Aye, aye,” Liam nods with a little salute.

Zayn snorts, shaking his head and starting back down the hallway.

Liam jogs to catch up with him. “Do you need me to carry any of those books? Looks like kind of an armful.”

Zayn wants to say that he had no reaction to such an outdated act of chivalry, but he really can't help the flutters in his stomach at the words. He can only manage a nod, shifting a few of his books into Liam's wide palms.

They stop by his locker on the way to lunch, getting rid of the ridiculous amount of books they'd had to lug down the hallway.

“Thanks,” Zayn says awkwardly, mechanically, as he shuts his locker door.

“No problem,” Liam smiles, as if everything is so _easy._

Now both of their arms are empty, brushing every so often as they continue across the school to the lunchroom. Liam’s going on about some game last night. Zayn doesn't really care but he tries to listen anyway. It's hard not to pay attention when Liam's speaking with such passion and excitement.

He stops mid-sentence, words dying off. Zayn looks up to see what’s wrong, but then he feels a hand slide over his and he kind of forgets everything that's ever happened.

Liam's fingers are bigger than his, thicker around and more calloused. Somewhere in the back of Zayn’s mind, he figures they're from handling the football so often. His hand is softer than it appears, though, as it presses against Zayn's sweaty palm.

 _This is just an experiment. This isn't real. The warmth of his hand is purely platonic._ He tries to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control, keep his mind from jumping to hypotheticals and ‘what if’ situations. But the fluttering in his stomach just won't let up and he really doesn't think _those_ are platonic.

“Sorry,” Liam mutters after a few moments. “I just saw this guy from my chemistry class who was kind of suspicious about me being into you. So I had to—you know, show him.” He gives Zayn's hand a little squeeze in demonstration.

“Ah,” Zayn nods, voice hoarse, suddenly.

But Liam doesn't let go, and Zayn doesn't know if he even could. Not until they enter the lunchroom, approaching their normal table, do they separate to take their seats. Louis notices, Zayn knows he does, but surprisingly keeps his mouth shut. He must've also noticed that all of the blood had drained from Zayn's face.

There's five of them there, now, instead of the usual three. Liam and Niall joined their table as the project kicked off. Liam claimed it made it more believable, and Niall said he was just relieved to leave that sausage fest over at their previous spot.

"You never did tell us about your date,” Louis mentions, raising an eyebrow at Zayn pointedly.

“Oh yeah,” Niall nods. “How was the movie?”

“It was wicked,” Liam gushes, continuing on about how it was the best one yet and breaking down the plot for the rest of the table like he and Zayn had done in the McDonald’s parking lot.

“Jesy said she saw us,” Zayn adds. “Which is good because she's kind of got a…”

“Big mouth?” Niall suggests.

“She's an excellent source of information,” Harry amends.

“Exactly,” Zayn nods. “So I'd say that's a plus.”

“Totally,” Liam agrees. “I'd say we’ve got this whole place fooled.” He gives Zayn a little nudge, scooting his chair a bit closer.

Zayn manages a little smile.

There's definitely at least one fool here.

~*~

Zayn doesn't know why he’s a little nervous, standing in front of the door. Probably because he only ever enters her room when he needs help.

And, well, he needs help.

He raps on the wooden surface with a knuckle, although it's inaudible over the music beating through her speakers.

He takes a deep breath and peeks his head into the room. “Don?”

She looks at him through the mirror at her vanity, hand poised with a brown pencil just above her eyebrow.

He slips through the doorway and closes it behind him, feeling it click under his hand. She turns her music down and gives him a curious look.

“Hey,” he greets stiffly, taking a seat on her bed.

Her eyebrow arches higher. “What do you want?”

He just shrugs, looking around the room. He studies the pictures of her and her friends, the old posters she claims she leaves up because she's ‘too lazy to take them down.’ It's all very Doniya.

“Spit it out, then,” she prompts, dropping the pencil back in her make up bag.

He takes another deep breath, searching for the words he'd rehearsed earlier but coming up empty.

“You know about my project, right?”

“Mhm,” she nods, pulling out an eyeshadow palette.

“Like, the premise and everything?”

“Yes, Zayn, I know about your fake boyfriend,” Doniya responds. “Get to it, _bhaiya_.”

“Alright,” he breathes. “So you know Liam, then?”

She glances at him in the mirror. “I know _of_ Liam, yes. Saw him pick you up once, I think. Cute kid. But no, I don't _know_ Liam because you have yet to introduce him to us.”

Zayn cringes a little. “Right.”

She turns in her chair so she's facing him now. “This about Liam?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs.

“How can it ‘kind of’ be about Liam?”

“Well, it is about him,” he decides, looking down at his hands. “And about me.”

Doniya waits expectantly.

“It's just that…this whole ‘fake’ thing is starting to feel kind of real to me,” he admits, finally. “I keep getting those dumb butterflies and shit.”

He doesn't need to look up to know that Doniya’s smiling. “Does Zaynie have a crush?”

He groans, lying back on her bed. “No. It's not like that. It _can't_ be like that.”

“So you don't like him, then?”

“I don't know,” he sighs, driving the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

“Hmm.” She thinks for a moment. “You know when you have a dream about someone you've never really talked to but then you feel a certain connection to them afterwards?”

Zayn glances up at her, confused. “Yeah…?”

“Well, it could be the same thing here,” she says simply. “Your mind is having a hard time differentiating between what's real and what's fake and is creating the feelings you should have in a real situation that you're lacking in a fake one.” She sighs. “Does that even make sense?”

“Kind of,” Zayn nods slowly, sitting back up. “So my brain is just reacting to Liam because it thinks it should?”

“Exactly,” she agrees. “Either that or you're actually crushing on the dude, which, in that case, you're kind of fucked.”

He snorts, standing. “Thanks, Don.”

"Glad I could help,” she smiles, turning her music back up. “Close the door on your way out!”

He steps out of her room and into the quiet hallway. She's probably right. He's just overreacting. Liam's nice to him and he likes that. That's all.

Right?

~*~

Liam screws up his face in frustration, eyes squeezed shut. “I know this one. I _know_ this one.”

Zayn waits, watching with an amused smile at Liam’s expression. “You know this one.”

“Ugh, give me a hint,” he groans.

Zayn thinks for a minute. “Some people called him Tricky Dick.”

Liam peeks open an eye to give Zayn a curious look.

“I’m serious,” Zayn laughs. “People really called him that.”

Liam snorts. “Okay, then give me a better hint.”

“Well if I say Watergate it’s too obvious—”

“Richard Nixon!” Liam blurts, eyes shooting open. “And you did say Watergate, loser.”

“Oops,” Zayn shrugs. “You still got it.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to remember all of this,” Liam moans, lying back on the carpet.

Zayn rests his head on the side of Liam’s bed. “Okay, just think about how in the first televised debate, JFK looked young and sexy and Nixon was haggard and looked like he got hit by a bus. That’s what helped JFK win.”

Liam pinches the skin between his eyes. “That’s just more confusing.”

Zayn sighs. “Okay, how bout…alright you know Watergate, right? And you know about Marilyn and Kennedy?”

“Of course,” Liam nods.

“Well, just imagine their affair in the Watergate hotel,” Zayn suggests. “That way you associate the two together.”

Liam considers it. “Yeah, okay, Marilyn leaves her panties at the Watergate. That might work.”

“Just, uh, don’t write that in the essay portion,” Zayn chuckles.

Liam giggles, sitting back up and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

Zayn shrugs. “I mean, I’m not starving or anything.”

“Well I am,” Liam decides, bounding to his feet and pulling Zayn up along with him.

He follows Liam down the narrow staircase into the kitchen. Liam heads straight for the pantry and grabs the peanut butter, unsurprisingly.

Zayn leans against the bar top awkwardly. This is the second time he’s been over to Liam’s house, but he’s not exactly comfortable yet. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get there, really, because he still doesn’t feel like they’re just “friends” hanging out. The discussion he had with his sister did help a little, at least, because now he can ignore the butterflies in his stomach and excuse them as confusion.

Liam makes his fifth peanut butter sandwich of the day. Apparently his coach is all about the protein, and Zayn has to refrain from pointing out that the fat content of that much peanut butter is doing more harm than good. He kindly refuses Liam’s offer of one, instead grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge.

“Hi, boys,” Karen greets, entering the kitchen.

Liam gives a muffled greeting, mouth full of peanut butter. Zayn smiles at her, cracking open his drink.

“Did you finish your homework?”

“Mostly,” Zayn shrugs. “Liam was studying for his history test tomorrow.”

Karen raises her eyebrows slightly, like she’s surprised. “Really? How’s that going?”

“I actually think I’ve got it,” Liam grins. “Zayn’s helping me with ways to remember things.”

Zayn prays he doesn’t mention the Marilyn Monroe thing, but luckily Liam keeps his mouth shut.

Karen smiles at Zayn. “I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you can help him get his math grade up, too.”

Liam groans, rolling his eyes and nudging Zayn back towards the stairs. Zayn sees a glimpse of Karen’s teasing smile before he begins his ascent back to Liam’s room.

~*~

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Zayn wonders, nearly tripping as they hike down the cement walkway to the field. It’s almost kind of eerie, seeing the stadium completely empty. He can see his breath as he follows Liam towards the grass.

“Uh, no,” he admits. “But there’s no one to catch us, so it’s not really that bad. Not illegal unless you get caught, right?”

“Wrong,” Zayn mumbles, but he’s not really trying to argue with Liam. Liam can tell this, too, because he just grins and nods for Zayn to keep up.

“It’s about time you learn the basics of the game,” Liam mentions, standing on the twenty-yard line and facing Zayn ten yards away.

Zayn stuffs his hands into the pockets of his—Liam’s, actually—sweatshirt. Apparently you “can’t play football in a leather jacket,” so Liam tossed him a sweatshirt that was crumpled up in the backseat. It’s a little damp and wrinkled but it smells like laundry and Liam’s cologne and Zayn would rather it have smelled like sweat and mold because that wouldn’t be as distracting.

“Alright, let’s start with the players,” Liam decides, spinning the ball in his hands absently. “First is the offensive line. You’ve got three tight ends. They usually play at the end of the line.” Liam jogs over and positions himself so Zayn can picture it more accurately. “Then you’ve got your left and right tackles, left and right guards, and then the center.”

He’s in the middle of the line now. He takes a few steps back. “This is where your quarterback would be. That’s Rooney. He kind of sucks, though, so we’ll move on. Behind him is the fullback, and then taking up the rear is halfback. Easy enough, right?”

Zayn blinks at him. “I’m suddenly realizing how you must feel in history.”

Liam lets out a laugh. “And that’s just the O-line! Ready for defense?”

Zayn shrugs but Liam doesn’t even see it because he’s already positioning himself on the other side of the line.

He  goes on like this for the remaining defense and special teams. Liam’s sure to point out where his position is, and even Niall’s. Zayn’s kind of paying attention, but mostly he’s focused on the excitement in Liam’s voice, the brightness in his eyes, the way the crisp fall air glows around his face. He’s still not sure how anyone could be, but Liam’s really in love with this sport. And Zayn’s kind of in love with Liam’s steady passion for it.

Liam’s distracted him so much that he totally misses the fact that Liam’s tossed the ball towards him until it bounces on the ground a few inches away from his feet. Zayn grins sheepishly as Liam chuckles before bending down to pick it up.

With the pigskin under his fingers, it finally clicks with Zayn that he’s playing football with the best player at their school, possibly in the state, and Zayn can’t throw for shit.

“Toss it back,” Liam tells him with a friendly smile, palms facing Zayn to show that he’s ready.

Zayn hesitates, blinking rapidly and looking for any possible escape route.

Liam must notice, because he drops his hands and offers a sympathetic smile. “I won’t judge, you know.”

Zayn doesn’t exactly believe him, holding the ball loosely in his hands like he’s afraid to touch it.

“Come on, can’t be worse than Rooney,” Liam jokes, sticking his hands back out. “Nice and easy.”

Zayn feels it again, the sense of calmness and familiarity he gets when Liam’s talking to him. Liam says it like it’s so simple, so easy, like nothing’s really that big of a deal. He’s so believable, convinces Zayn so easily.

Zayn doesn’t even think as he throws it back. The tail’s a little wobbly, and Liam has to move to catch it. But other than that—

“Nicely done,” Liam says with an affirming nod, looking a little surprised as he tucks the ball against his bicep. “That wasn’t bad at all. Why were you so hesitant?”

Zayn shrugs, digging the toe of his Van into the grass. “’Ve never really been the best at sports, I guess. And you, like, _are_ the best.”

“Ah, that’s not true,” Liam says with a snort. “Definitely don’t have the best arm. Leg, maybe, but even then there are some soccer boys that could probably outkick me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to be so humble, you know. A bit of self-confidence is good.”

“I’m serious,” Liam insists.

“Alright, if you’re not the best player on the team, then who is?” Zayn challenges.

Liam blinks, taking a while to rack his brain.

Zayn smirks victoriously. “That’s what I thought.”

Liam lets out an annoyed huff, flicking his eyes up as he sends a speeding bullet right towards Zayn’s chest.

He stumbles a bit catching it, barely getting his arms around it before it can slip to the ground.

He reels back to throw it again, feeling a bit more confident this time, when Liam stops him.

“Put your pinky finger between two of the laces,” he tells him. “No, not those ones. Here—”

He jogs over, letting out a frosty breath as he reaches Zayn.

“Pinky between these two,” he says, voice softer in such close proximity. He guides Zayn’s fingers to the correct position. He glances up at Liam, face only inches away. His brows are slightly furrowed in concentration as he maneuvers Zayn’s hand to the right place. Zayn tries to ignore the hammering in his chest.

“There we go,” Liam grins, taking a step back. “That way when you follow through—” he guides Zayn’s arm by the elbow through the throwing action, “—the ball will spiral and travel straighter. You know, physics.”

“Physics,” Zayn echoes, feeling Liam’s touch burn even through the thick sweatshirt.

“You got it,” Liam nods, patting Zayn’s back before jogging back to his original spot. “Follow through!”

Zayn throws again, and it’s evident that Liam’s assistance helped: the ball travels much straighter and faster than it had his previous try.

“There you go,” Liam grins, squatting to catch it as it loses height. “Nicely done. Too bad you’re a senior, or I’d tell you to try out for the team next year.”

Zayn snorts, shaking his head as he chuckles. “Shut up.”

Liam giggles along with him. “Seriously, you might give Rooney a run for his money.”

“Maybe I’ll go out next year,” Zayn jokes. “Be a collegiate athlete. Speaking of, are you playing next year?”

Liam just shrugs, grin fading. “Don’t really know yet. I’ve gotten a few offers, but they’ve been from tiny D2 and D3 schools that won’t offer any athletic money. Being a kicker’s hard because it’s such a specialized position. Like, I’d love to play at State, but they’ve already got a really good kicker who’s only a sophomore. Even if I did make the roster, I’d just be on the sideline until he graduated. And I think I’d be too antsy.”

Zayn frowns, but it’s obvious by Liam’s tone that he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “What about Niall, then?”

“Nah,” Liam shakes his head. “He actually used to be one of our best wide receivers—great hands, that kid—but he got his knee fucked up from a tackle last season. So after surgery Higgins moved him to punter, since it’s easier on the knees and we haven’t had a decent one in years. He’s doing pretty well, actually, but he’ll never fully recover enough from his injury to play college ball.”

“That sucks,” Zayn says, furrowing his eyebrows. “One stupid high school player can fuck up the rest of your career.”

“That’s how the game goes,” Liam sighs, tossing it back to him. “I’ve been spared, pretty much. Only had two broken fingers and a pretty nasty concussion, but other than that not dramatically altered.”

Zayn shakes his head in disbelief, focusing on getting his fingers correctly aligned with the laces before throwing it back. “You better not get hurt this season,” he warns. “I don’t want to have to push my fake boyfriend around the halls in a wheelchair. Don’t go all _Friday Night Lights_ on me.”

Liam laughs, eyes twinkling. “I won’t. I promise.”

There’s a rumbling, suddenly, from somewhere Zayn can’t exactly pin. He watches as Liam’s eyes go wide.

“We should go,” he says curtly, taking a step backwards towards the entrance.

Zayn’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why? What was th—”

Suddenly, Zayn sees it,  the giant riding lawnmower round the corner of the field house and head down the path towards the field. There’s a man in the driver’s seat, but Zayn can’t tell if he’s seen them yet. He’s blocking the entrance that the boys used, however, and he’ll definitely notice them if they try to escape that way.

“Run,” Liam orders, grabbing Zayn’s hand and pulling him towards the bleachers.

Zayn stumbles along behind him, not even daring a glance back in fear that he’ll trip over his own feet. They make a beeline for the metals bleachers, ducking behind them and out of sight.

They’re both crouched down low, breathing heavy and peering through the seats at the field. They can’t see much, but from what Zayn does see the landscaper doesn’t look too disturbed as he begins striping the field.

Liam lets out a sigh of relief. Zayn can feel his chest deflate from where it’s partially pressed to his shoulder.

“What kind of trouble would we have gotten into if he’d caught us?” Zayn asks, voice hushed.

Liam just shakes his head. “Didn’t want to find out.”

“Well why’d you take me out here?” Zayn hisses, although he’s kind of smiling at the situation because it’s a bit ridiculous.

“I wanted you to have the full football experience,” Liam defends. “Wanted you to feel how it is playing on the field.”

Zayn opens his mouth to retort but he really has nothing to say because he realizes how sweet of a gesture that was, how sincere Liam is when he says he wants to share what he loves with Zayn. Zayn can only swallow and nod, darting his eyes away from Liam’s face and trying to remember to keep breathing.

Finally, Liam lets out a laugh. “We probably looked like idiots running off the field.”

“Well, we kind of look like idiots now because we’re stuck behind the bleachers until that guy’s done,” Zayn points out, although his smile has returned.

Liam shakes his head, hauling Zayn up to his feet. He heads for the fence behind the bleachers.

“No way,” Zayn says, crossing his arms and staying put.

“Come on,” Liam sighs. “It’s like, maybe four feet tall. You could step over it, for Christ’s sake.”

He wants to argue but there really aren’t any alternatives. So Liam wins easily as Zayn makes his way over, grumbling.

“I swear, if I rip my pants—”

“Your secret would be safe with me,” Liam grins, attempting a wink and failing miserably.

Zayn rolls his eyes but feels a blush creeping up his neck so he swings himself over the fence quickly, managing to get himself over it, but just barely.

“See, that wasn’t too bad,” Liam mentions as he hops over it himself. “Don’t know why you’re so afraid to do new things.”  


“Don’t wanna look stupid, I guess,” he mumbles with a shrug.

Liam lets out a laugh, leading Zayn around the stadium towards the parking lot. “I don’t think you could ever look stupid, Zayn.”

Zayn’s legs turn to jello at that, but he manages to get out a, “Just you wait,” before his mouth goes completely dry.

He doesn’t know if he’ll last a full semester.

~*~

"You never told me where we’re going,” Zayn mentions, watching houses pass by outside the window of Liam’s car. It’s a sunny Monday afternoon, and they’re in the last, precious hours of their three-day weekend.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a toothy grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

Zayn snorts but can’t help but feel a little excitement. He’s not usually one for surprises, but something about Liam makes it seem not so bad.

Liam turns down winding roads that Zayn’s never explored before, so all he can do is watch out the window at the passing scenery, bopping his head lightly to the Chris Brown song flowing from Liam’s phone.

“I’ve never been over here,” Zayn comments, listening to the sound of Liam’s fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“We used to live over here,” Liam explains, “when I was really little and my sisters were only in elementary school.”

It seems like an older part of town, with big oak trees and small brick houses straight out of the seventies. It has more character than his neighborhood, and he admires that.

The car slows, and Zayn looks to see that Liam’s turning into a parking lot in front of an old playground. He parks and shoots Zayn a grin before getting out. All Zayn can do is follow.

Liam’s already on a swing by the time Zayn catches up. Liam nods to the seat beside him, and Zayn sits.

“I used to come here all the time,” Liam says, dragging his feet in the wood chips below. “It was my escape from home when I was little. I don’t come here as often anymore because of school and football but—it’s a nice quiet place.”

Zayn nods, looking around. It’s old like the rest of the neighborhood. Instead of the usual metal structure, it’s all made out of wood. It’s really quite beautiful, in a way. He smiles.

“I had a spot like this,” he mentions.

Liam looks over in interest.

“It wasn’t a playground, though,” Zayn continues. “It was this giant tree in our backyard. I used to climb up it to just…be alone. A bad storm took it out a few years ago, but the stump is still there.”

Liam smiles. “I had a big tree too but the branches were too high for me to climb it. I begged my dad to build a treehouse, but then we moved.”

“One time I built my own little fort in it,” Zayn remembers with a grin. It’s been a while since he recalled these memories from the back of his mind. “Like, with blankets and stuff. Spent all day up there reading and drawing.”

“Sounds like the life,” Liam sighs. “Except I can’t draw for shit.”

Zayn giggles.

“I'll race you down the slide.”

“You're on.”

Zayn chases him across the wood chips to the double metal slide. Liam ascends it with two steps up its slick surface. Zayn opts for the more civilized approach of climbing the rock wall to the top.

“Alright,” Liam says, waiting for Zayn to get situated at the top of the slide. “One…two…three!”

Zayn pushes off as hard as he can, but Liam’s feet are the first to hit the ground.

“Not fair,” Zayn argues immediately, crossing his arms. “You started before me!”

“I did not,” Liam retorts, crossing his arms as well and standing nose to nose with Zayn.

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Redo?”

“You’re on.”

~*~

"Has anyone mentioned anything to you about us in the past week that I haven’t written down?”

Liam chews on the end of his pen. “No, I’m pretty sure I told you everything.”

Zayn frowns. “Pretty sure?”

“Positive,” Liam amends. “I’m positive I told you everything. Happy?”

Zayn snorts, saving his document. “Sure, Li.”

“What’d’you have so far?” He wonders, scooting closer so he can peer at Zayn’s computer screen.

“Some good stuff,” Zayn says, scrolling down for Liam to see what he’s gotten down. “Pretty much what I hypothesized at the beginning of the experiment.”

Liam sighs happily, lying back on the carpet. “Good. I bet you’ll get an A on this. You’re really putting in a lot of work.”

“That’s the goal,” Zayn nods, shutting his laptop and sliding it away.

“Zayn!”

He lets out a groan, pushing himself up off the ground and stumbling over to his door. He sticks his head into the hallway. “What?”

“We’re eating dinner in a few minutes,” his mother calls up the stairs. “Liam is welcome to stay if he’d like.”

Zayn checks his clock, brow furrowed. It’s already six thirty. Time must’ve really gotten away from them because they usually only stay at each other’s houses until five.

“Um, my mom’s wondering if you’re staying for dinner,” Zayn mumbles, eyes flicking up to Liam’s face for a second before focusing on a hole in his jeans.

“Do you want me to stay for dinner?”

Zayn shrugs. “You can stay, if you want.”

“Well, I don’t want to be in the way—”

“I want you to stay,” Zayn blurts.

Liam pauses where he’s collecting his things.

“Then we can, you know, talk about it at school,” Zayn mentions quickly. “Just, uh, adds to the legitimacy. Also my mom’s been bugging me about it for a while.”

Liam giggles, standing up. “Really? My mom has been too.”

“I guess I’ll have to stay for dinner at your house too, then,” Zayn smiles, leading him downstairs. He swallows when he realizes what he's signed onto.

“Set the table, will you, sunshine?” Trisha asks, patting Zayn on the cheek as she passes him in the kitchen.

Liam helps him place plates and utensils in front of each seat. His father’s out tonight, but it's fine because Liam's taking his spot instead, so the table of six is full.

“Zayn Zayn Zayn,” Safaa exclaims, hurrying into the room. “Wal helped me do a back bend and now I can do it all by myself! Come watch!”

Zayn lets out a snort but follows her into the living room. It's dim, light from the TV flashing on the carpet, but he can still see Safaa with Waliyha next to her, ready to catch if need be. Wal’s eyes flicker up to Liam before casting down again, staring hard at the butterfly on Safaa’s shirt.

“Okay, ready Zayn? And Liam?”

“We’re ready,” Zayn nods, giving her a thumbs up.

She leans herself backward, working slowly in a controlled fall until she catches herself on the ground at the last minute. Wal helps her kick over so she's back on her feet again.

“Ta da!”

Zayn and Liam start clapping simultaneously.

“Very well done.”

“Ten out of ten. Perfect form.”

“An excellent show.”

Safaa laughs, jumping excitedly. She does a little curtsey for them, to which Waliyha responds with an eyeroll.

“Dinner!” Trisha calls again.

Safaa runs back to the kitchen, and Zayn and Liam follow behind her. Wal takes her time getting there, checking her nail polish and nearly running into the table.

“Looks delicious, Mrs. Malik,” Liam mentions, sliding into the seat next to Zayn.

“Thank you, Liam,” she beams, setting the chicken dish on the table.

“Where’s Don?” Zayn wonders.

“She’ll be home soon,” Trisha assures. “But don’t wait for her. Dig in!”

Safaa’s first to the spoon, scooping rice and chicken onto her plate. Waliyha takes it next, moving the food carefully to her plate.

“Where’s your dad?” Liam wonders, grabbing a roll from the basket.

“He’s got some work function,” Zayn explains, passing him the butter.

He hears footsteps behind him and soon there’s a hand on his head. Doniya ruffles his hair as she passes him on her way to an empty chair. She sits with an exhale, looking at dinner before glancing up and noticing Liam.

“Hi,” she says, eyes darting to Zayn. “You must be Liam. I don’t think we’ve ever properly met. I’m Doniya.”

Zayn forgot that she’s been gone the few times Liam’s been over. He watches the interaction carefully, keeping an eye on Doniya’s quirking lips.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Liam smiles.

She returns the smile and looks at Zayn again, eyes bright and eyebrows wiggling slightly. Zayn kind of wants to disappear.

“So, Liam,” Doniya begins, dishing herself some chicken. “What’s it like having a fake boyfriend?”

“Don,” Zayn groans quietly, stabbing his chicken with his fork.

“It’s a genuine question, Zayn,” she defends before looking at Liam expectantly.

“It’s, um, a new experience for me,” Liam explains. “But, it’s basically like me and Zayn are friends with a little planning and acting. Lots of…implying.”

Zayn’s impressed with his answer. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to respond so well under the curious gazes of three sisters. He’s still regretting making Liam stay, though, as he watches Liam swallow nervously.

Trisha joins them at the table, sighing contently and filling her plate up. “We’re glad you could stay, Liam. It’s nice to see another face besides Harry and Louis.”

Zayn frowns at her.

“They’re nice boys, don’t get me wrong,” she adds. “It’s just…how’s your schooling? Did you get the classes you wanted?”

“Uh, yeah,” Liam nods politely. “I think seniors have more priority when it comes to scheduling, so I didn’t have an issue with classes.”

“Are you looking at colleges for next year?” Don wonders before taking a bite.

Liam shrugs as he swallows his food. “I’m looking at a few places. It mostly depends on if any school recruits me for, uh, for football.”

Doniya’s brows raise in interest. “I didn’t know you played football. What position?”

“Kicker,” Liam and Zayn answer simultaneously.

Liam glances over at him with a laugh, but the looks his sisters are giving him are _really_ making him want to disappear.

“That’s cool,” Doniya mentions with a grin.

“What’s the farthest you’ve ever kicked anything?” Safaa wonders with big blue eyes.

Liam thinks for a moment. “That’s a good question. Let’s see…my longest field goal was fifty-four yards. And then for kick offs, I've sent a lot of them through the uprights so I'm not sure how far it went off the field.”

Safaa nods like she understands what he said. “What's the weirdest thing you've ever kicked?”

Waliyha snorts at that. She's being unusually quiet, but Zayn's a little too preoccupied to wonder why that is.

Liam chuckles. “Hmm…I’d have to say my sister’s stuffed bunny. Once when I was little she was annoying me so I punted it across the yard.”

Safaa giggles, and Zayn smiles down at his plate, imagining a tiny Liam kicking the shit out of a stuffed animal.

“Sounds like something you'd do, Saf,” Doniya teases.

“Don't mess with me,” Safaa warns with a giggle, pointing with her fork.

“Safaa’s actually going to join a soccer team in the spring,” Zayn mentions, attempting to divert some of the attention off Liam.

Liam looks at her with interest. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Safaa nods. “Louis said he’d help me with it. Maybe you could help me too, Liam!”

Zayn opens his mouth to say—well, he doesn’t know what, exactly. That Liam won’t be here in the spring? That after the project’s over, Liam’s out of their lives?

But Liam’s already nodding. “I’d love to help you. I’ll have you kicking twice as far as the other kids.”

Safaa grins and looks over at Zayn, who forces himself to smile back at her. It’s not very hard when the image of the two of them in the backyard, kicking balls around and giggling like the children they are, is dancing in his mind.

They finish up dinner without any more awkward conversations, surprisingly. Doniya and Trisha start debating who should go home next on the _Voice_ , and Liam is telling Zayn the story of his first high school football practice. Zayn can see Waliyha listening from across the table.

“I mean, we were completely _drenched_ ,” Liam says, getting up to clear his plate. “Could barely hang onto the ball. But the coaches would not call it off.”

“That seems like it’s against, like, child safety laws,” Zayn chuckles, putting his and Liam’s plates in the sink.

“Right? I think they did it to scare us. I mean, it was our first day, so they had to give us the impression that they weren’t playing around. But I’m pretty sure the uprights missed being struck by lightning by only a few inches. Like, the hairs on my arm were sticking straight up. And they were wet.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “I’m impressed that you went back after that.”

Liam shrugs. “I love it.” He’s quiet for a second before adding, “Sorry I talk so much about football. I probably sound like a total jock.”

“You don’t,” Zayn assures him. “And I like listening to your stories.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods sincerely. “You’re a very good story teller. Very captivating.”

Liam hums contently at that, smiling down at his feet.

“I should probably head home,” he mentions as they reach Zayn’s room.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Zayn says because he doesn’t know what else to say. Stay, maybe?

Liam collects his things and leads Zayn back downstairs.

“Thanks for having me over,” Liam says, facing Zayn at the door. “And tell your mom thanks again for dinner. It was awesome.”

“Will do,” Zayn nods, watching Liam open the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liam tells him, offering a little smile.

“See you tomorrow,” Zayn agrees. “Drive safely.”

Liam gives him a thumbs up as he makes his way down the front path to his car.

Zayn only lets himself watch Liam get in his car before closing the door and letting out a big breath.

He passes Doniya on his way back upstairs.

“Did Liam leave?” She asks.

“Yeah, just left.”

He doesn’t understand the weird smile on her face until it’s too late. He sprints up the remaining steps, but he’s not fast enough to miss Don shouting, “Zaynie’s got a boyfriend!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he groans before shutting his door.

But he’s got a smile to match hers.

~*~

“Saf, seriously, stop,” Zayn snaps, holding the remote out of reach.

“But I wanna watch something else,” she whines, grabbing for it again.

“Fine,” Zayn decides, dropping the remote and standing. “Watch what you want to watch, I don’t really give a fuck.”

“Mom, Zayn said a bad word,” he can hear Safaa call as he makes his way up the stairs, shoulders tense in irritation.

He slams his door shut, punching his radio on and falling face first onto his bed. So much for a Friday night. Harry’s out of town, Louis’s visiting Nick, and Niall’s got his dad’s birthday party. He didn’t even bother asking Liam, didn’t want to seem desperate for wanting to hang out without an excuse. So that’s how he ended up watching shit television with his little sister, and that’s how he’s now lying on his bed listening to crappy pop music because he’s too lazy to get up and change the station.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he almost just ignores it but pulls it out at the last minute. “Hello?”

“Zayn!”

It’s Liam, and—

“I’m drunk.”

“Didn’t really need to explain that,” Zayn snorts, rubbing his face. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” Liam assures him. “But I’m at this party and—” He attempts a loud whisper “—and people are wondering why you’re not here with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like they keep asking me where you are,” he explains. “One girl said that I shouldn’t be at a party without my boyfriend. And I agree with her.”

“Are you trying to ask me to come to this party?” Zayn clarifies.

“Um, yes.”

“Liam, it’s already nine o’clock,” Zayn sighs.

“Come on, Zayn,” Liam pleads. “It’s your project at stake.”

Zayn exhales. Liam’s right.

“Fine,” he groans. “Where is it?”

“Rooney’s,” Liam tells him, and Zayn can hear his smile. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Alright. See you in a few.”

“Thanks Zayn!” Liam cheers. “You’re the best!”

“I know,” Zayn sighs, ending the call.

He gets out of the house by telling his mom he’s going to Liam’s. Which, isn’t a complete lie.

Alright it is, but Zayn's not exactly the party type and he doesn't want his mom asking questions.

He's kind of irritated, to say the least, on his drive there. He was annoyed that it's a Friday night and was alone at home. Now he's annoyed that he has to go to this stupid party with dumb people that wouldn't even give him the time of day.

Rooney apparently lives not too far from Zayn, making the drive quite short. He parks on the street a few houses down, making his way through the dark, up the driveway to the house booming with rap music and fluorescent lights.

He doesn't know if he should ring the doorbell or walk right in, but once he reaches the front porch he doesn't need to make a decision because the door swings open.

“Hi.”

It's a girl from his chemistry class. Jesy, if he recalls correctly. He offers a small smile.

“Was wonderin’ when you'd show up,” she mentions, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him inside.

The house is loud, but there really aren't as many people there as Zayn expected. Jesy leads him through the house, and he stumbles along behind her.

“Now everyone will stop giving Liam shit for showing up without you,” Jesy chuckles. “Where were you?”

“Oh, um,” Zayn searches for an excuse. “I had to, uh, babysit my little sister.” He nearly cringes at how lame that sounds.

But Jesy just coos. “How sweet. Well, glad you could make it after all.”

“Zaynie!”

A sense of relief washes over him when he sees Liam. Finally a person he's familiar with.

“Hi Liam,” he says, nearly choking in the tight hug Liam’s giving him. He pats Liam’s back awkwardly until he releases, grabbing onto Zayn's shoulders and grinning.

“Glad you're here,” he tells him, lips slick. Zayn’s eyes avoid them.

“You're a little buzzed,” is all Zayn can manage.

“Just a little,” Liam giggles, pinching his fingers to show just how little it really is.

“Zayn!”

He turns to see Rooney, who claps him on the shoulder.

“Glad you could make it,” he grins, even more slurred than Liam. “You want a drink?”

Zayn jingles his keys as an excuse, and even in his inebriated state Rooney seems to understand.

“We’ve got a few Cokes, I think,” he offers, pulling him along towards the kitchen.

“Sounds good,” Zayn nods, not really in the position to decline.

“I would’ve told you about the party, too,” he mentions, leaning in but not bothering to whisper. “Just figured Liam would do that.”

“It’s no problem,” Zayn hurries, grabbing a Coke from the cooler.

It’s weird, talking to him. He doesn’t know if he’s ever spoken a word to Rooney all of high school. Now the guy’s acting as if they’re close pals. Zayn makes a mental note to add this to his observations.

There's a hand clamped on his waist, and Zayn nearly jumps before he sees it’s Liam, smiling dopily at him.

“Thanks for coming,” he mentions as they make their way to a more secluded part of the house. “I owe you.”

“Nah,” Zayn shakes his head, cracking open his can. “It is my project, after all.”

“Still, it was stupid of me to come without you,” Liam says, leaning against the wall.

Zayn just shakes his head again, taking a sip from the can.

Liam lets out a breath, dilated eyes studying Zayn.

“So, what is there to do at parties?” Zayn wonders, seeking subject change.

Liam shrugs. “I don’t really go that often.”

“What made you come to this one?”

He shrugs again. “I honestly don’t know. Guess I was bored?”

“Damn, I was bored too,” Zayn chuckles. “Could’ve saved us both the trouble of being here.”

Liam laughs. “Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve been five episodes into a _Friday Night Lights_ marathon by now!”

Zayn swallows, shrugging. He really doesn’t have an excuse. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Liam’s laughing stops. “I…didn’t want to bother you, I guess.”

Zayn watches as he grips the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Same, actually,” he adds, taking another sip.

“Then let’s agree now to call each other the next time we’re bored,” Liam decides.

“Definitely,” Zayn nods.

Liam’s face lights up suddenly. “Oh, man, I’ve gotta show you something.”

He takes Zayn’s hand and tugs him away from their isolated spot, weaving in and out of people as they make their way through the house.

“Rooney’s dad is a freak collector,” he mentions over the loud music. “He’s got a whole wall full of comics. Like, framed and everything. I found them when I got lost trying to find the bathroom—”

“Liam!”

He stops, suddenly, causing Zayn to nearly run straight into his back.

“Come play with us,” Jade calls from where she’s sitting in a circle with a few other people. She waves them over, and Liam seems to forget all about the comics as he makes his way over to join them. Zayn has no choice but to follow.

“We’re playing Spin the Bottle,” Jesy explains, wiggling her eyebrows at them. “Take a seat.”

Zayn doesn’t remember time traveling back to 2002, but there’s no arguing because Jade gets right down to business with the first spin. Zayn holds his breath as the bottle passes him and lands on Stan. Jade rolls her eyes but leans across the circle to kiss him anyway, lips lingering for a few seconds and making Leigh-Anne and Jesy whoop with excitement.

Tom is next. Then Jesy. Then Josh. It goes like this around the circle. Zayn ends up kissing Leigh-Anne on her turn, which really isn’t too bad.

Liam’s sitting diagonal from him, tucked between Ellie and Dan. He shoots Zayn a smile from across the circle, one that stirs up more inside of him than Leigh-Anne’s soft lips.

It’s Liam’s turn next. Zayn’s distracted, watching Liam giggle at something Ellie’s whispering to him, so he doesn’t even see the bottle land until everyone is looking at him.

He glances down to see the bottle’s pointed straight at himself.

“How adorable,” Jade comments, clutching her heart.

“Let’s see it, lover boys,” Jesy calls.

“At least they’re practiced,” Dan jokes.

Everyone is laughing around them, but Zayn’s mind is kind of blocking all of that out right now. His heart pounds relentlessly in his throat, and even though Zayn hasn’t taken Anatomy he’s pretty sure it’s not supposed to be there. He’s stuck, frozen in his cramped, cross-legged position.

Liam’s leaning forward before he can even register, which is good because if Liam hadn’t moved Zayn would’ve been stuck there for the rest of his life. He just watches as Liam’s smile gets closer and closer until his lips are on Zayn’s, pillowy and lush and, honestly, just how Zayn imagined.

Zayn doesn’t really know how long it lasts. All he remembers is closing his eyes and inhaling Liam’s cologne through his nose. That, and the softness of Liam’s lips, even softer and sweeter than Leigh-Anne’s, although he might just be biased.

“Alright, alright,” Zayn hears Josh chuckle, and Liam pulls away, meeting Zayn’s eyes with an equally confused stare.

Zayn can’t manage to meet Liam’s eyes for the rest of the game. Liam ends up kissing Jesy, but it’s short and stiff. Zayn just stares at the bottle, trying to remember to perform the necessary functions like breathing and blinking.

Zayn ends up taking Liam home. The ride is quiet. He has to turn the radio on to relieve some of the awkward tension building between them.

“Thanks for coming,” Liam says again as Zayn pulls into his driveway. He seems to have sobered up at least a little.

“Yep,” Zayn nods stiffly, awkward.

“See you Monday?”

“See you.”

He watches Liam make his way up to his front door, gait a little clumsy still. He waits until Liam is safely inside before pulling away, gripping the steering wheel tightly and blinking rapidly as though doing it enough times will make the night disappear.

It doesn't.

~*~

Neither of them mentions it.

For some reason Zayn has a feeling that Liam might say something about it with a light laugh to ease the tension, but he doesn’t. Zayn figures he might not even remember. He was pretty drunk.

But it’s not something Zayn will forget. He can still feel the softness of Liam’s lips, the tickle of his hair brushing Zayn’s forehead. He keeps trying to block it out, but every time Liam smiles or his mouth forms around words, he’s reminded of when those lips were on his.

Liam doesn't act like anything’s different at all, so it's possible he really doesn't remember. It's probably better off that way, anyway, for the project’s sake.

“Are you coming over after school?” Liam wonders as they exit the lunch room, shouldering his bag and looking over at Zayn. “My mom wants you to stay for dinner.”

Zayn swallows. “Yeah, sure. You don't have practice?”

“Only til 4,” he shrugs. “So you can come over after that.”

Zayn tries to come up with an excuse, but comes up dry.

Liam starts heading down a separate hallway. He turns to face Zayn, taking a few steps backward towards his class. “Just text me when you're coming over!”

Zayn nods, meeting Liam’s wave before they both head their separate ways.

~*~

Zayn didn't know it got so cold in mid-October, but now he's standing in his usual spot along the chain link fence, looking out over the field, and he's freezing his ass off.

“Pretty sure my balls have completely receded into my body,” Louis grumbles, tugging his beanie lower on his head.

“Maybe you should've worn more than a denim jacket,” Harry points out.

“First of all, it's lined with shearling, so fuck you. Second, I've got a look to keep up. You obviously don't care about your appearance.”

Harry does seem to have an odd mismatch on of a wool pea coat, polka dot scarf, and fuzzy ear muffs.

“At least I'm warm,” he huffs, shoving his mittened hands into his pockets.

Zayn sighs, shaking his head at the two of them and returning his attention to the game. They're losing, not by much but they're still in the red. Zayn can basically see Liam's frown through his helmet every time he leaves the field.

The second half doesn't get much better. In fact, it gets worse. The offense just can't seem to hang onto the ball, and the defense isn’t doing much better, letting the other team slip through the cracks. Zayn doesn’t know the sport very well, but it’s kind of painful to watch.

They only manage to find Niall after the game. Even he’s a bit beaten down, doesn’t have his usual sunny smile. He tells them Liam already split, patting Zayn on the shoulder.

“Good game,” Harry offers as Niall heads back to the field house.

Niall just lets out a little laugh, shooting them a little wave before disappearing in the crowd.

Harry’s frowning as they make their way to the parking lot. Louis pats his back but Harry pushes him away.

“Lou, can you take Harry home?” Zayn wonders, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna go on a drive.”

“Dunno if he’ll even want to get in my car,” Louis shrugs. “But I’ll zip tie him if I have to.”

Harry’s frown deepens.

“You alright?” Louis checks.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” Zayn breathes. “Just gonna check on something.”

Louis raises an eyebrow but says no more.

They part ways in the parking lot. Zayn throws the heat on as soon as he slides into his car. He lets Frank Ocean warm him up as he pulls away from the school. He wasn’t exactly paying attention the first time he went there, but his GPS helps him navigate through the winding streets.

Zayn stuffs his hands in the worn pockets of his denim jacket, arms held tight to his body to brace the chilly October air. The tip of his nose is tingly cold as his boots crunch over the wood chips of the playground.

“Thought I might find you here,” he speaks out towards the figure hunched on a swing, head bowed.

The only light is from a dim lamp post, the moon, and all the stars. Still, he can see a faint outline of Liam's face, lips candy pink from the cold and pulled into a frown. Zayn makes his way over and plops down on the swing next to him.

“Figured you could use some company,” Zayn says with a noncommittal shrug.

“Well then you obviously don't know me well at all,” Liam snaps, fuzzy eyebrows furrowed in a deep crevice, “because then you'd know that I need to be alone.”

Zayn blinks, Liam's unexpected outburst giving him an almost foul taste in his mouth. He stands abruptly, swing bouncing against the back of his knees.

“I guess I'll go then,” he says, voice stiff. He turns without another look, not so much as meeting Liam's eyes as he takes a step away—

“Wait,” Liam whispers, defeated. He reaches out for Zayn, latching onto his fingers and giving a slight tug as to pull him back.

Zayn sits again without a second thought, letting out an exasperated sigh as he does so. The chains of the swing jangle underneath his weight. They move back and forth in silence for a few moments, heavy feet dragging through the wood chips below.

“I let the whole team down.” His voice comes out as less than a whisper, a measly little thing that’s so quiet it could've been just a thought.

“That's not true and you know it,” Zayn sighs, scuffing the toe of his boot in the wood chips, sending them flying in front of him.

“I could've won the game for us,” Liam goes on, resting his head on the chains that hold the swing up. “They were all relying on me.”

“They rely on you a little too much, in my opinion,” Zayn mutters. “Your offense is complete shit. The only time you guys ever score is with special teams. You’ve got a winning record with possibly the worst offensive line in the state and guess what? That's because of you.”

Liam looks at him, and Zayn can't really see his expression all that well but he can tell that his eyebrows are aloft.

“Since when do you know so much about football?”

Zayn shrugs. “Niall won't shut up about it half the time. Plus, I figured I should know at least a little. My boyfriend is the star kicker, after all.” He knocks him lightly with his elbow, trying desperately to keep things light, remind him, and himself, that this is just a project.

“That was an impressive analysis,” Liam mentions, although there's sarcasm leaking into his voice that Zayn can't miss. “Have you ever thought about a career on ESPN?”

“Shut up,” Zayn snorts, nudging him again.

Liam chuckles, a light laugh that freezes in front of his face. Zayn watches, pleased. Liam's smile fades rather quickly, though, and he licks his lips before speaking his mind.

“I don't know how I'll go to practice on Monday.”

“Honestly, Liam, if anyone gives you shit for not single-handedly winning the game for them, I'll fuck them up.” Zayn’s very non-confrontational in nature, but this is getting him kind of heated. Liam is the hardest working  guy he knows, and he's beating himself up over others’ mistakes. It's just not right.

Liam snorts weakly. “I'd like to see you up against the whole football team.”

Zayn frowns. “What? You don't think I could stand my ground? I may not be strong but I'm quick and lithe, Liam. They'd have to catch me first.”

“That wouldn't technically be standing your ground,” Liam reminds with quirked lips, “if you run away.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Minor details.”

Liam smiles, glancing over. “You'd really take on the whole football team for me?”

Zayn fiddles with his rings. “Well, I mean technically it would be the whole team minus two players, as I hope you and Niall wouldn't want to beat me up. But—yeah, I guess. I’m pretty dedicated to my role as your fake boyfriend, Liam.”

His smile softens as he looks down at his lap. There's a minute of silence before he says, “S’kind of weird, huh? Fake boyfriends?”

Yes.

Zayn shrugs. “Purely academic.”

“Right,” Liam nods. “Purely academic.”

Zayn doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to make his head spin with thoughts about why Liam's making that face, doesn't want to stay up at night analyzing Liam's every word and how he said it. So he gets up, knees creaking as he stands. Liam looks up at him.

“Should probably get you home,” he tells him, offering a hand.

Liam takes it, allowing Zayn to pull him to his feet. He stumbles up, catching himself mere inches before he can face plant into Zayn’s chest. He's sure Liam can hear his heartbeat,  thudding out of control from that close proximity, maybe even feel it. Liam lets out a little cough and takes a step towards the parking lot. Zayn blinks before following him.

“I didn’t see your car in the parking lot,” Zayn mentions, looking over at him.

Liam gives a one shoulder shrug. “I didn’t drive.”

“You _walked_ all the way here?”

“It’s not that far,” is all he says.

“Well, let me at least drive you home,” Zayn insists.

Liam actually smiles at that. “Okay.”

They listen to Frank on the way home, too. They don’t talk much. Zayn has to stop himself from glancing over at Liam every two seconds. He’s so used to Liam filling up the silence.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kickass?”

Liam looks over at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Like, not just because you’re a kicker,” Zayn continues, gripping the steering wheel.

That gets Liam to snort.

“But you really are kickass,” he goes on. “You’re the best player on the team, and you keep up with academics, and you’re a super nice person. Plus, you’re a pretty kickass fake boyfriend, as far as fake boyfriends go.”

Liam lets out a laugh. “No, no one’s ever called me kickass. But thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zayn grins.

The silence between them is a bit more comfortable now, warmer than it was.

Zayn pulls into Liam’s driveway slowly.

“Thanks for the ride,” Liam says, voice soft.

“Any time.”

Liam stares down at his lap. “Do you— would you like to come in? My, um, my mom usually makes hot chocolate after games.”

Zayn lets out a breathy laugh. “Tempting but, uh, I think I should be heading home. It’s late and I haven’t exactly told my mom where I am.”

“Oh,” Liam says, blinking. “Okay, then I’ll see you later.”

“Yep,” Zayn nods.

Liam pops the door open, then pauses. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

He maneuvers his way out of his letterman jacket, handing it to Zayn.

“Seems like a boyfriend thing to do,” he shrugs.

The butterflies in Zayn’s stomach have somehow made their way up to his throat, because now he can’t speak.

“See ya.”

He watches as Liam gets out, giving a small wave as he makes his way up to his front door, shivering a little in the night air. Zayn sits there for a little, hands gripping the fake leather, before remembering who he is and where he is.

He has to shut off Frank’s voice on his drive home, or else those damn butterflies might actually escape.

~*~

“I can't remember any of these stupid trig identities,” Liam groans, flopping back on his carpet and throwing his flash cards in the air. “It's hopeless.”

“It's not hopeless,” Zayn disagrees, glancing at his journal as he types. He's finishing up transferring all of the observations from his written word to a document, and he's quite pleased with the amount of information they obtained. He has a generous amount to work with once he starts the write up.

Liam lets out a frustrated groan. “I can do the work just fine, but I can't memorize this shit. It just won't stick.”

“I'll help you after I finish this,” Zayn promises. “Just give me a few.”

It's already getting late. Liam's practice ran over, so Zayn didn't even come over until after dinner. He feels it's important for Liam to be there while he works on his project, plus Liam said he needed help studying. Two birds, right?

Zayn can see the sun dipping low on the horizon through Liam's window, but he chooses to ignore the time and focus on typing instead. He’s kind of tired from last night’s cram session for biology, and staring at his computer screen isn't helping his droopy eye situation, but he's got to get this done.

It's another twenty minutes until Zayn's cramped fingers finish typing. He pushes away his journal with a satisfied sigh and scoots closer to Liam, who’s now asleep on his bean bag.

Zayn kind of wants to laugh at the boy’s sleeping face, mouth open and head cocked in an uncomfortable position, but it's also kind of endearing. He compromises with a smile.

“Liam.” He gives him a little nudge. “Liam.”

He wakes with a start, brown eyes blinking rapidly until he realizes where he is.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “’Ve just been a little tired lately.”

“I can see why,” Zayn mentions, crossing his legs underneath him. “Your coaches work you all so hard. Don’t know how you have enough energy to play every Friday night.”

“I don't either,” Liam chuckles, wiping a spot of drool from his cheek.

"You said you needed help studying?" Zayn reminds, holding up the flashcards with trig identities scribbled on them.

“Yeah,” Liam shrugs. “But I'm sick of studying math.”

“Li, your test is tomorrow.”

Liam collapses back on his bean bag with a sigh.

“Maybe it’ll help if you write them a ton of times,” Zayn suggests. “Like, it might help you remember them better.”

“Alright,” Liam breathes grabbing his notebook.

Zayn grabs his history notes, flipping through them for a quick review as Liam jots down the identities. He lays back on the carpet, feeling the relieving ache of his muscles relaxing. His eyes blink sleepily at the scribblings on the page.

“Do you know how to do this one?”

Liam scoots over to join Zayn, laying on his stomach next to the boy and showing him his review packet. Zayn drops his notes and looks at the problem.

“I think you have to use a half angle formula,” Zayn says, biting his lip. “Try the one with cosine.”

Liam takes it back from him and begins jotting down letters and numbers. Zayn glances over at him every so often. Liam’s got this face he makes when he’s focused where his brow furrows and his tongue peeks out slightly and it’s only extremely endearing.

“I think I did it,” Liam exclaims a few minutes later.

“You’re gonna ace that test,” Zayn smiles.

Liam collapses on his work. “I hope so.”

He’s quiet for a while, so Zayn assumes he’s fallen asleep again. After a while Zayn tosses his notes behind him, sick of reading over information he won’t remember the next day anyway.

“I don’t want to graduate.”

Zayn glances over at Liam, who’s got his head buried in his arms.

“Why not? Aren’t you sick of school?”

“I am,” Liam sighs. “But at the same time, I know I’ll miss it once we’re out.”

Zayn shrugs. “Maybe a bit. But I think the prospect of our futures is more exciting.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a few moments before admitting in a small voice, “I’m scared.”

“For what? College?”

“Everything,” Liam breathes, chest deflating. “College and football and paying for my own things and living on my own. Like, what if I never find someone?”

Zayn snorts. “Liam, you’re eighteen.” But he feels his cheeks warm a little at the mention.

“I’m serious,” Liam groans, turning to him. “What if I never find my soulmate? Or what if I’ve already met them and I just don’t know it?”

Zayn bites his lip, thinking before answering. “Well that’s the thing with a soulmate, right? You’re kind of destined to end up with them. At least I hope.”

“I hope so too,” Liam says with a sigh. “Or else I’m fucked. Well, I guess I wouldn’t really be fucked, then, would I?”

Zayn laughs, covering his eyes with an arm. “You’re a dork.”

“I need to show you something.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, but Liam's already getting up and moving over to sit by Zayn's laptop.

“You have to see this Robert Downey Jr. interview,” he tells Zayn, typing in a search on YouTube. “He talks about what will possibly be in the next Avengers movie.”

“Hopefully better than the last one,” Zayn mumbles, scooting over so he can see too. Liam giggles at that.

Zayn tries to focus on RDJ’s beard and not the fact that Liam is so close he can feel his slow breathing. His shoulder is pressed against Zayn’s, and their legs are so close that Zayn could reach over with a socked foot and rub Liam’s calf. He doesn’t, of course, but he’s kind of aching to.

The thing about YouTube videos is that once you start, it's really hard to stop. That's how they find themselves on an Armie Hammer interview from 2006 at eleven o'clock.

"I should probably get home," Zayn slurs sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

Neither of them move.

The next video plays automatically, and Zayn's trying to keep his eyes open, he really is, but it’s the bright screen in the dark room and his eyes are just begging to be shut.

He rests his head down on his arm. A few minutes is all he needs. Then he’ll pack up his stuff and head home. It's dangerous to drive drowsy, right?

He wakes up at the sound of a blaring guitar, nearly jumping out of his skin. There’s a weight on his shoulder, and it takes him a moment to figure out that it’s Liam’s head.

“Liam,” Zayn whispers hoarsely, moving his shoulder to nudge him awake.

Liam groans next to him, an arm reaching out to blindly search for his phone.

Zayn blinks himself more fully awake, realizing two things: first, it's no longer dark outside, and second, he’s still in Liam's room.

“Oh fuck,” Zayn mutters, shuffling his stuff together quickly.

“Shit,” Liam frowns. “My mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Not just your mom,” Zayn huffs humorlessly, cringing at the thought of how mad his mom’s going to be when he finally rolls up to his own house. His phone is full of texts from her, wondering where he is and why he isn't home yet. He swallows.

Liam gets up, leaving Zayn alone to collect his things. He contemplates calling his mom but decides he’d rather just face her once and be done.

He’s moving to leave when he hears voices in the hall and freezes behind the door.

“I got a call from his mother asking where her son was.” Karen sounds angry, and Zayn didn't even know Karen _could_ sound angry. “I went to bed thinking he had already left! And I had to explain that you were both passed out on the floor. She sounded panicked, as I would be too!”

“I'm sorry,” Liam tries to appease. “Honest, Mom, we just lost track of time. It won't happen again.”

“I know it won't happen again,” Karen snaps. “Look, Liam, I know he's only your fake boyfriend but I don't think sleepovers are exactly appropriate. Especially on a school night.”

Liam groans. “It wasn't like that, Mom—”

“It doesn't matter,” she tells him. “I'm still not okay with it, especially when I didn't know. Now go get ready for school.”

Zayn hears footsteps moving towards him and quickly pretends to still be gathering his things as Liam comes in. He’s frowning and slightly pink in the cheeks.

“I'll see you at school,” is all Zayn says, shouldering his bag.

Liam just nods as Zayn high tails it out of there. Luckily he doesn't run into Karen on his way out the door. But he's got a whole other monster waiting for him at home.

“ _Zayn Javadd Malik_.”

Zayn winces as he steps through the door, head hung.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Trisha steams as Zayn tries to make his way upstairs. “You didn’t call! You didn’t text! How was I supposed to know where you were?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles sincerely, although he doesn’t know how much good it’s going to do.

She pauses. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

She purses her lips into a frown, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you sure? Did something…happen?”

“I’m fine,” Zayn says a little too gruffly but, in his defense, he’s not really a morning person.

She drops it, letting her hand fall so he can continue his way upstairs.

“You’re still in trouble!” She calls up to him.

He lets out a humorless laugh before shutting his bedroom door. He collapses on his bed, driving the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

Doniya was wrong. His brain is definitely _not_ tricking him into liking Liam.

He’s falling all by himself.

~*~

Zayn’s in kind of a funk for the rest of the week, but his moping is interrupted on Friday evening when the team wins their last regular season game and earns a guaranteed spot in the playoff bracket. They celebrate with pizza after the game. Liam and Niall are buzzing, and even the rest of them can’t help but be excited.

“We haven’t made it to the playoffs in years,” Niall explains to Zayn, Harry, and Louis, completely giddy as he scarfs down pizza.

“That was a close game,” Louis adds, peeling a pepperoni off Harry’s slice.

“Luckily we’ve got the best kicker in the state,” Niall says, shooting Liam a grin.

Liam shrugs it off but smiles too, reaching over to steal Zayn’s crust.

“Don’t be so humble,” Zayn teases, poking his cheek.

“So, Liam, tell us,” Louis booms, using his crust as a microphone. “How did it feel to score the winning field goal?”

Liam snorts out a laugh as Louis holds the crust out to Liam. “It felt, uh, good.”

Louis rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Someone’s got to coach this kid before he’s allowed on ESPN. Really? ‘It felt, uh, good?’ So inspirational.”

Niall cracks up. “Liam, how did it feel to ace your test? ‘It felt, uh, good.’”

“Liam, how did it feel to receive your first blow job? ‘It felt, uh, good.’”

Liam chokes on his pizza.

“Liam, how did it feel to _give_ your first blow job?” Harry joins in with a grin. “‘It felt, uh, good.’”

“ _Enough_ ,” Liam groans, covering his face.

“Give the poor guy a break,” Zayn chuckles, patting his back.

“Aw, boyfriend Zayn to the rescue,” Louis coos, receiving Zayn’s glare with a smug grin.

“So where’s your next game?” Harry wonders, question directed at Niall.

Niall glances at Liam for help, cocking his head. “It’s home against…Bishop Ward?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ private school pricks.”

Liam nearly shoots Sprite out of his nose. “Jesus, Louis.”

“What,” he shrugs. “We play them in soccer all the time. Hate them.”

“Are they any good in football?” Harry asks.

“Oh, young, naïve Harry,” Louis sighs. “Private schools are good at everything. They’ve got God on their side.”

Zayn snorts. “And by God you mean—”

“Their parents’ money,” Louis nods.

“Exactly,” Niall agrees.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll beat them,” Harry says confidently. “You’ve got something on your side that they don’t.”

“Satan?” Louis tries.

Harry gives him a look. “You’ve got _moxie_.”

Louis groans, rolling his eyes.

“You’re the underdogs!” Harry continues, ignoring Louis. “You’ve got somewhere to go, something to fight for.”

“Harry’s right,” Niall admits. “We’ve got drive that they don’t have.”

Liam agrees, nodding as he takes another bite.

“You should give us an inspirational speech before the game,” Niall tells Harry with a grin.

Louis groans louder.

“Maybe I will,” Harry decides, puffing out his chest. “And _Louis_ won’t be invited.”

“Oh no,” Louis drones into his Coke, shaking his head.

“You could help Liam with his post-game interview,” Zayn adds with a sly grin, earning a nudge from the boy.

Louis uses his straw as a microphone. “Tell me, Harry. How did it feel to mentor Liam on his post-game interview skills?”

Harry deadpans. “It felt, uh, good.”

~*~

Liam’s got a dentist appointment on Monday, so Zayn doesn’t see him all morning. It’s kind of weird. He’s gotten so used to seeing him between every class. Now he walks the halls alone, struggling to hold the books that Liam usually carries.

He heads to lunch alone, walking in a bit late because he had to finish up a lab. As he approaches their usual table, he notices a new guy in Liam’s seat. He’s got his back facing Zayn, hair buzzed close to his scalp. Zayn raises a brow as he nears.

He takes a cautious seat next to the strangers, glancing over as the boy turns to him.

“Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Liam grins.

Zayn just stares at him, eyes wide. Everyone else is looking at Zayn, anticipating his reaction.

“Your _hair_ ,” Zayn whispers hoarsely. It’s gone. Cleanly shaven off.

“Yep,” Liam nods, running a hand over it.

“At the beginning of the season, Liam made a bet with Rooney that if we made it to the playoffs, he could shave Liam’s head,” Niall explains, giddy.

“I didn’t have much hope in the offensive line,” Liam mumbles with a grin.

It’s just so…starkly different. His soft, curly hair that used to frame his face is completely gone. He looks older now, clean and straight cut.

“What do you think?” Louis wonders, eyebrow cocked above his slight smirk.

“I don’t hate it,” Zayn says slowly. He might actually _like_ it, even.

Liam laughs, shaking his head.

“What does it feel like?” Zayn asks him, eyes glued to the short hairs.

“Cold,” Liam shrugs.

Zayn lets out a laugh, finding himself reach up to feel the top of Liam’s head, hand brushing lightly.

“You went from a golden to a Labrador,” Zayn mutters, jerking his hand away when he realizes it’s been on Liam’s head far too long.

“I guess that’s true,” Liam laughs. “Never thought about it that way.”

“At least it’ll fit under your helmet better,” Niall jokes.

“Liam,” Louis starts, and from the quirk in his lips Zayn knows it’s not going to be good. “How did it feel when you shaved your head?”

Liam gives him a look, making the others bust out in giggles. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Uh, have you met Louis?” Harry snorts.

“Just one of the perks,” Louis sighs happily.

“‘Perks’ is a generous choice of words,” Zayn says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Agreed,” Harry nods.

“I resent that,” Louis frowns, crossing his arms.

“Now you know how we feel,” Liam tells him, pursing his lips.

“We already knew how you feel,” Louis says, with a challenging smirk. “You feel good, don’t you, Liam?”

“God,” Liam groans, dropping his head to the table.

Zayn can’t help but laugh with the rest of them. He pats Liam’s back lightly. “Someday you’ll learn that you can never win with him.”

Liam sighs. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

~*~

“And then Higgins put in Johnson. Rooney was furious, of course, which was actually kind of fun to watch. Johnson actually scored, though. Like, the kid has an arm on him. Don’t think the coaches will put him in on Friday. Too big of a risk for a playoff game.”

Zayn nods along as Liam talks, watching his lips form words excitedly. He can tell he’s a bit anxious for the game, as he really hasn’t stopped talking since Friday. Zayn tries to be excited with him, but his feelings from last week are resurfacing. He tries to keep himself from staring too hard, from being too soft with him, but it’s a challenge.

“Anyway, I’ll see you at lunch,” Liam smiles as they reach Zayn’s classroom.

“See ya,” Zayn nods, barely giving him a glance before ducking through the door.

He slumps into his seat with a lengthy exhale, blinking away the image of Liam’s recently sheared head. Louis stumbles in right before the bell, as usual, slipping into the seat next to Zayn with a grin that quickly falls.

“What’s wrong?”

Zayn’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Louis sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I know you, Zayn. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Nothing.”

“While that’s believable,” Louis quips, “I know it’s not true.” He pauses, studying Zayn. “Is it about Liam?”

Zayn swallows.

“Ah,” Louis nods.

“It’s creepy how you can do that,” Zayn mutters, pulling out his notebook.

“I’m not blind, Zayn,” he says with a laugh. “I see the way you look at him.”

He feels his cheeks heat up.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Zayn turns to him. “Are you high?”

“Not now, no.”

“I can’t tell him,” Zayn hisses. “That would be too weird. This whole thing is already weird. What would I even say? ‘Hey, Liam. I know this whole thing is supposed to be fake but I think my feelings are actually real now?’”

Louis exhales. “This project is going to end and everything is going to go back to normal and you’re going to spend the rest of the year moping and pining over this guy. And _I’m_ the one who’s going to have to deal with it.”

Zayn just shrugs, turning back to his notes.

“I don’t want you to regret it, Zayn,” Louis adds with a sympathetic look.

“Too late,” Zayn mumbles. “I’m regretting the whole thing already.”

~*~

“How’s Louis?”

Zayn exhales, deflating on his bed. “Kind of a mess.”

“That sucks,” Liam says, sighing. “How’d it happen?”

Zayn adjusts the phone on his cheek. “Nick basically told him he didn’t want to be tied to anyone anymore. Said he wanted to be free to date other people at school. Didn’t even come to town to do it, though. Just called.”

“Ouch,” Liam winces. “That’s kind of a dick move.”

“Not really surprising,” Zayn mutters.

“Do you think he’ll still want to come to the game tomorrow?” Liam wonders.

“Harry and I will make him,” Zayn assures. “Or else he’ll just stay in bed all weekend. His coping methods are…questionable.”

“I don’t really blame him,” Liam breathes. “But, I’m glad you all will be there. I think I play better when you guys are there.”

Zayn smiles, biting at his lip. “Really?”

“Well, this is the first year you’ve been coming to games,” Liam reminds, “and the first year we made it to the playoffs.”

“Good point,” Zayn nods. “Well then, you’re welcome.”

Liam laughs.

“Are you nervous?” Zayn already knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

“A little bit,” Liam says. “Excited, though. Just want to get on the field already.”

“I bet,” Zayn nods. “I’m sure you’re gonna do great, though.”

“Thanks, Zayn.”

That makes him smile, even though his heart aches a little at the tenderness of the words.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“I got recruited by a D1 school,” he says, and the excitement in his voice is clear.

“That’s awesome, Li.”

“It’s a private school a few states over, and they can’t offer me much, but it’s still  nice that they’re looking into me,” Liam explains.

“A private school?” Zayn repeats. “Don’t tell Louis.”

He chuckles. “Oh I won’t. I’m probably not going to go, but it’s a good sign.”

“That’s really cool, Liam,” Zayn smiles. “Wish schools would want me.”

“Oh please,” Liam snorts. “You’ll be going on full ride academic scholarships.”

Zayn sighs. “I don’t know.”

“We’re both going to go to our dream schools on scholarships and everything is going to work out.”

He smiles. “Your optimism is encouraging.”

“I try.”

There’s a knock on his door.

“Hang on, Li.” He covers the microphone with a hand. “Yeah?”

Safaa shuffles in, stuffed elephant clutched tightly against her chest. She sniffs, crawling onto Zayn’s bed.

“What’s wrong, _api_?” He asks gently, petting her hair.

She wipes her face. “I had a bad dream and Mom isn’t home yet.”

“I’m sorry, Saf,” he frowns, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You can stay in here for a little bit, how ‘bout that?”

She nods, resting her head on his chest.

“Liam?”

“Yep?”

“I’ve gotta go,” he says with a slight sigh.

“Hi, Liam,” Safaa says, craning her head up to speak into Zayn’s phone. He puts it on speaker.

“Hi, Safaa,” Liam greets softly. “What’re you doing awake, missy?”

“She had a bad dream,” Zayn explains as Safaa giggles. “Now we’re chillin’.”

“Sorry ‘bout your dream,” Liam says.

“It’s okay,” Safaa sighs.

“Tell Liam good night,” Zayn tells her, tapping her temple.

“Good night, Liam!”

“Night night!” Liam says. “Have a good dream this time, alright?”

She giggles again. “Okay.”

Zayn turns it off speaker and presses the phone to his ear once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day!”

He groans. “Don’t make me more nervous than I already am.”

He bites away a laugh. “Good night.”

“Night, Zayn.”

~*~

The three of them stand in silence as Bishop Ward storms the field in victory. Zayn can’t even bring himself to look for Liam as the team slumps off towards the sidelines. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing Liam’s disappointment.

“Well, that sucks,” Harry says eventually, and it’s simple but it sums up the evening pretty well.

“This whole week has sucked,” Louis mutters bitterly, kicking the chain link fence with the toe of his Van.

Zayn frowns, chest aching as he thinks about how Liam must feel.

“Maybe I should’ve given them that inspirational speech,” Harry tries to lighten the mood. The other two aren’t feeling it.

They make their way up towards the field house. They only catch Niall in passing. It’s even worse than their last loss. Niall can’t even offer a friendly smile.

“I hope Liam’s okay,” Harry mentions as they head towards the parking lot.

Zayn gnaws on his lip.

“You want me to take Louis home?”

He nods.

“Let’s go, Louis the Fourteenth,” Harry sighs, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Give Liam our condolences!”

Zayn gives a distracted nod, starting towards his car.

He doesn’t need his GPS to get there this time. He parks in the same spot, noticing the absence of Liam’s car yet again.

He joins Liam on the swings silently, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the letterman jacket. He doesn’t really know what to say, so he holds his tongue, waiting for Liam to speak.

He doesn’t.

“You know you played your best,” Zayn says finally, staring at the wood chips beneath his feet.

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Bullshit, Liam.” He takes a deep breath. “You couldn’t carry the team all the way to the championship, Liam. They needed to pick up the slack, and they didn’t. You did all you could do.”

Liam lets out a shaky breath, resting his head in his hands. Zayn rubs a hand on his back, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m really proud of you, Liam.”

He lets out a humorless laugh, sniffing. “I wish that could be enough.”

Zayn bites his lip, rubbing a soothing hand over hand over the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be. You can be disappointed.”

Liam sits up, wiping his face. Zayn drops his hand back into his lap.

“Thanks for coming to see me,” Liam whispers, breath freezing in front of his pink lips.

“I figured you could use a friend.”

He drops his head to Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn tenses, trying to pretend like it doesn’t tingle where Liam’s temple is pressed to his jacket.

“Should we get you home?” Zayn suggests. “I bet your mom’s already got the hot chocolate on the stove.”

Liam breathes out a little laugh. “Only if you come in this time.”

Zayn smiles, standing and pulling Liam to his feet. “I think we can make a deal.”

~*~

Finals week approaches at a rapid pace, and Zayn’s stress levels go through the roof. He and Liam barely have time to see each other, and when they do, they’re studying or finishing projects or reports.

Zayn spends all of the Sunday before finals finishing his psychology write up. He stares at a blank Word document for quite some time, mind reeling with memories from the past few months but not being able to put it on paper.

Luckily he’s been taking notes for the entire experiment and most of the work is already done. The hard part is concluding in an objective manner.

What is the conclusion of this experiment? What did he learn about the behavior of this populace? Did his experiment work? Was he able to convince the student body that he and Liam were in a serious relationship?

He sighs, staring at his keyboard. His first instinct is to talk about Liam. He could probably write the entire five-page requirement just on things that make Liam laugh. But he can’t. That’s not the assignment. It’s not about the experiment itself but about the outcome.

Once Zayn starts, it flows more easily than he expected. The experiment was a success, and he has pages of evidence to support it. Countless comments from students of every clique, every club, every committee. And it wasn’t as hard to convince people as Zayn anticipated, he notes. Really, the spreading gossip basically did the work for them. All he and Liam had to do was smile at each other and go on a few dates.

The biggest surprise was the support from many of their classmates. They received few inquiries about the differences between Liam and Zayn. Liam, the football star, and Zayn, the…not. In fact, most of the response was positive. Zayn quotes Jesy directly, saying “You two are so opposite but so alike, and that's what makes you so cute together.” Not exactly Shakespeare material but, it gets the point across.

He includes the other four boys as co-authors. After all, if it wasn't for them, Zayn wouldn't have had an experiment at all. He emails them all a copy before printing it out for class.

“I finished,” Zayn mentions to his mom as he grabs his papers from the printer.

“You did?” She smiles. “How did it turn out? Was it what you expected?”

He gives it a bit of thought. “The outcome was what I expected. The process…not so much.”

She rubs his back. “Proud of you, _beti_. That was a lot of work, but you stuck with it and finished it.”

He shrugs. “Couldn't have done it without my friends.”

“That's true,” she agrees. “Make sure they know how grateful you are. They're not even getting a grade for this like you.”

Zayn nods. “They know.”

~*~

When winter break finally arrives, Zayn’s so relieved that he nearly forgets about the last step of his experiment.

“So happy it's over with and I got a good grade,” he sighs, sinking into Louis’ couch.

“Well, it's not over yet,” Louis reminds from where he's braiding Phoebe’s hair—or rather, attempting to.

"What do you mean?”

“You still have to break up,” he says with a shrug, searching for an appropriate hair tie in the pile on the floor.

“Oh,” is all Zayn can say, and suddenly he's not as relaxed as before.

Louis gives him a sympathetic smile. “You could always tell him.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, I'm sticking to the plan. We break up and Liam no longer has to deal with me and can finish his senior year normally.”

“If that's what you want,” Louis says simply.

It's not.

~*~

Niall’s end-of-the-semester party is apparently the place to be that Saturday night. Or, at least, that's what Harry says as he drags Louis and Zayn along with him. It's not that Zayn and Louis don't want to support Niall, it's just this isn't really their crowd.

“This is the perfect place to break up with Liam,” Harry reminds and they make their way up the slippery front path to Niall’s door.

Zayn's stomach is suddenly replaced with a large rock.

“Or maybe we can just celebrate,” Louis suggests, slinging an arm around Zayn's neck.

“No, Harry's right,” Zayn admits, although the words are sour in his mouth. “We should do it here.”

Louis gives him a look that Zayn doesn't respond to.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Niall cheers as they enter.

Harry’s grin is huge as Niall wraps an arm around his shoulder, leading him through the house. Zayn and Louis are left to fend for themselves in the ever-growing crowd.

“It reeks of cheap alcohol in here,” Louis mutters to him as they carefully make their way deeper into the house. “But hey, where there are lots of high school students, there's lots of weed.”

“Knock yourself out,” Zayn snorts as Louis departs on his hunt for a blunt. He grabs the boy’s shoulder. “Don't, you know, actually knock yourself out.”

Louis rolls his eyes but grins before disappearing into the crowd. Now Zayn's all alone in a crowd of strangers. If only he could find—

“Zayn!”

He literally sighs with relief when he sees Liam parting the crowd to join him.

“Hi,” the boy grins, and Zayn can tell by his sugar slick lips he’s already started enjoying himself.

“Hi,” Zayn smiles. “You look happy.”

“It's this weird drink they gave me,” he giggles, swirling his red solo cup. “It makes me feel all warm inside.”

Zayn snorts out a laugh. “Interesting. Maybe I'll have to try it.”

“Can I get you a drink?” Liam offers, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, grabbing his fingers loosely to follow him through the crowd.

Liam fixes him a rather large rum and coke, and Zayn politely sips while Liam refills his own drink.

“Can we step outside?” Zayn wonders, stomach churning. “It's kind of loud in here.”

“Of course,” Liam nods easily, following Zayn to the patio door.

The night is frigid but crystal clear, a still kind of coldness that reminds Zayn of a bated breath. Fitting.

They sit on the porch steps. There's no one else out here, as it really is quite chilly, but Zayn doesn't intend to make this quick.

“You never told me how your teacher liked the project,” Liam mentions, his shoulder pressed against Zayn's.

“Oh,” Zayn blinks. “Yeah, I got an A. She really liked the idea and the execution. She said even the teachers thought we were dating.”

Liam giggles. “They talk about that kind of thing?”

“Apparently,” Zayn smiles, distracted. “Listen, Liam, I think it's a good time for—”

He's cut off when Liam's lips are pressed to his, sweet like cherry and slick against his. Zayn’s eyes close, brain focused on only the feeling of Liam's soft lips. His heart’s fluttering but for the first time tonight, it's in a good way.

Liam pulls back after a few seconds, smiling. Zayn can only blink at him.

“Figured I owed you a proper kiss,” he explains. “I am a good boyfriend after all.”

“You remembered?” Zayn wonders. “That night at the party?”

“Of course,” Liam smiles. “I wasn't that drunk. Now what were you saying?”

“I think it's a good time for us to break up,” he blurts in one string of words. It's like that one scene from _Mean Girls,_ when she's talking about word vomit. That's how it feels coming out.

He hates the way Liam flinches, glances away. He wants to take it back.

“Oh,” he says after a moment of digestion. “Yeah, of course. Almost forgot about that step.”

There’s silence between them. Zayn’s stiff with tension.

“How do we do it?” Liam asks finally.

“Tell a few people,” Zayn shrugs. “Let it trickle through. News travels slowly over break, so I figured everything would dissipate before next semester.”

“Smart plan,” Liam nods, although there's no emotion in his words.

“Yeah.”

Liam stands, offering a hand to Zayn. He takes it.

“So this is it, I guess,” Liam mentions with a smile that doesn't exactly reach his eyes. “Thanks for uh, choosing me for your project. I had a lot of fun.”

“Thanks for agreeing to it,” Zayn says hoarsely. “Couldn't have done it without you.”

Liam nods, and Zayn afraid for a moment he's going to shake his hand.

“Shall we head back inside? It's quite chilly out here.”

“Actually, I think I'm gonna stay out here a little longer,” Zayn decides, avoiding Liam's eyes. “The fresh air is nice.”

Liam stares at him for a second before nodding. “Alright. I'll see you, then?”

“See you.”

Liam shuts the door gently behind him. Zayn sits back down on the step with a huff. He pours the rest of his drink out on the grass, as his stomach would've rejected it anyway.

He doesn't really know what to think. But there's a sinking feeling in his chest like he might've just lost a really good friend.

~*~

Zayn's winter break is…uneventful, to say the least. He hangs out with Louis and Harry a few times, and even Niall occasionally. But Louis’ often busy with his siblings and Harry seems to be spending a lot more time with Niall. He's too scared to even text Liam, so Zayn's mostly on his own for the rest of December.

But it's nice. He's glad he can finally relax after a stressful semester. He spends some quality time with his family and catches up on some books he's been wanting to read.

He tries to ignore the fact that his fingers are always itching to call Liam. It's a hard transition, going from seeing each other every day to not even speaking. But Zayn doesn't want to come off as clingy. He told Liam it would be over at semester’s end, and it was. Liam didn't sign on for any extra.

He sees the three boys at Louis’ house on Christmas Eve. Liam’s out of town, apparently, at his grandparent’s house, and couldn't make it to Louis’ intimate birthday party. Zayn's honestly a bit relieved. He doesn't know if he'd be able to handle seeing him again for only one afternoon.

Christmas Day is a well-needed distraction for Zayn. He can't really be in his own mind too much when his sisters are running around with their new toys, making him play the evil villain in their super hero game.

It's not until after dinner that he questions whether or not he should text him. He sent and received a “Merry Christmas” from the others. He waits to see if Liam will send one first.

He doesn't.

The slump between Christmas and New Years is hard. Zayn holes himself up in his room and watches episode after episode of every dumb series Netflix has. The only time he sees sunlight is when Safaa makes him take her sledding.

Finally, Louis’ had enough.

“You're not going to spend your whole winter break moping,” he decides through the phone.

“I'm not moping,” but even Zayn knows that's not true.

“You're coming with me to this New Year's party,” Louis tells him. “No negotiating.”

“I don't really feel up to—”

“Zayn Malik, you are going to this party even if I have to drag you through the snow to get you there.”

And, he's right. There really is no negotiating.

~*~

“You clean up nice,” Louis says as Zayn slips into his passenger seat on December thirty-first. “Considering I'm pretty sure you haven't showered since Christmas morning.”

Zayn chooses to ignore him. “You didn't pick up Harry?”

“Niall’s taking him,” he shrugs, gripping at the wheel.

“Is that a thing now? Harry and Niall?”

“Don’t ask me,” Louis tells him. “Harry doesn't tell me anything anymore.”

Zayn chooses not to question the defensive tone Louis’ picked up.

He doesn't know who’s house this party’s at, just follows Louis up the shoveled path towards the door.

"How did you find out about this party?” Zayn wonders as they enter, music booming around them.

“Niall,” Louis shouts over the noise. “I'm gonna go find him.”

“I'm gonna come with you,” Zayn decides, although he's not sure Louis even hears him.

They find him in a more secluded room further into the house, standing with Harry and—

Oh.

“There they are!” Niall cheers, bringing the two of them in for a hug.

Zayn stumbles into Niall’s clutches but is distracted because, _God_ , Liam looks good. His buzzcut has grown out a little since he last saw him at Niall’s. He's wearing a ridiculous knit sweater that really, only Liam could pull off.

“Louis, you've gotta see this guy’s soccer jersey collection,” Niall says, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and pulling him away.

Harry tags along, and Zayn takes a step forward too because he doesn't want to be left here, but Harry stops him with a hand to the shoulder. He wiggles his eyebrows and squeezes him before departing. Zayn stays put.

“Hi,” Liam says finally, smiling.

Zayn makes himself look at him and man is that a mistake because he's forgotten how chocolaty brown his eyes are, forgot about the little wrinkles around them that form when he smiles.

He swallows. “Hi. Nice sweater.”

Liam snorts, looking down at himself. “Thanks, my nan made it for me.”

He sits down on the couch a few steps away, and Zayn finds himself joining him.

“How was your break?” He wonders. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods lightly. “You?”

“Pretty good,” he smiles. “My parents surprised me with a ski trip on Christmas. Sorry I didn't get a chance to text you “Merry Christmas” or anything, by the way. The service on the mountain was really shitty.”

Zayn mentally smacks himself.

“It's weird, isn't it? Being separated after seeing each other every day.”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, regaining some speaking abilities. “Glad I wasn't the only one who felt that.”

Liam chuckles. “It kind of felt like we were actually dating, don't you think?”

Zayn nods, mouth going dry.

“I mean, I've never really had a boyfriend, so I wouldn't know,” Liam adds with a laugh.

“Me neither,” Zayn blurts. “But it felt real to me, too. At one point I thought my brain was trying to make me like you…”

Liam looks up.

“But then I realized it wasn't, uh, wasn't tricking me at all.”

“What do you mean?” His voice is hushed, but Zayn can still hear it even over the lull of the party.

“I mean that I've been into you for the past few months and it's been very hard pretending that I wasn't,” Zayn breathes, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. “I just—I didn't want to ruin the project, and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. So, I'm sorry if I ruined our friendship I just…I figured you should know.”

He sucks in a breath, waiting for a moment before daring a glance at Liam.

He's smiling.

“You like me?”

Zayn winces. “Please don't make fun of me for—”

“No no no no, Zayn,” he clutched the boy’s shoulders. “I like you too.”

“What?”

Liam lets out a little laugh, like he can't contain it. “Yeah. Why do you think I agreed to this in the first place?”

Zayn blinks back at him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Same reason as you, you donut,” he laughs.

Zayn takes a moment to digest this. “So we were pretending to like each other, when in reality we both actually liked each other?”

Liam looks like he doesn't completely follow but nods anyway.

“Think of all the time we wasted,” Zayn says with a laugh.

“We could've done so much kissing, but instead we were stupid,” Liam grins.

“You’re right,” Zayn realizes.

They both lean in this time, but somehow the sweetness of Liam's lips still surprises Zayn. Liam's mouth opens slightly against his, and Zayn presses his body closer to him. His heart is pounding. Liam _likes_ him.

Zayn groans suddenly, pulling back.

“What?”

“I just realized that Louis was right,” Zayn moans. “I should've told you.”

“That means Niall was right too because he told me the exact same thing,” Liam giggles, pressing his forehead to Zayn's.

“Maybe we’ll just ignore those minor details.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Liam grins before his lips are on Zayn's once more.

They spend a bit longer making out on the couch until Liam drags him up and makes him enjoy the party.

“I _was_ enjoying the party,” Zayn argues, and he finds it easy to slip his hand into Liam's now.

Liam giggles, squeezing his fingers. “But it's almost midnight and we need to find the others.”

“Okay, Cinderella,” Zayn mumbles, causing Liam to grin.

"I see you two finally removed your heads from your asses,” Niall smiles as they approach. “Congratulations. I'll spare you the ‘I told you so’.”

Harry giggles beside him. “That wasn't really sparing them, you realize.”

“Yes, I realize,” Niall laughs, poking him in the side.

“Where's Louis?” Zayn wonders, noticing his absence.

Harry nods over to where Louis’ leaning across the bar top, chatting up a girl Zayn recognizes as Eleanor, who was Louis’ best friend in sixth grade. She's laughing and he's got a smug look on his face like he just told the best joke of the century (which, to be fair, is the look he gets after every joke).

"Interesting," Zayn comments, exchanging glances with Harry.

“Very,” he nods, eyebrows wiggling.

“One minute to midnight!” Someone calls.

“I think there's a projector in the other room if you want to see the ball drop.”

Zayn follows Liam, staying close and feeling his body heat radiating out from underneath the thick sweater. Niall and Harry make their way over too, pushing into the crowded room.

Liam and Zayn are pressed chest to chest, the heat almost stifling but not quite there. He smiles down at Zayn.

“Do you think that maybe next semester things could be a little less fake?”

Zayn raises a brow. “Is that your way of asking me out?”

“Is it working?”

Zayn laughs, pressing his smile to Liam's chest.

“Five….four…”

Liam lifts Zayn's chin, eyes meeting.

“Three…two…one…happy new year!”

Zayn's arms find their way around Liam's neck as they bring in the new year with a kiss. It's shorter than before but just as sweet. Zayn can't help but smile.

“Happy new year,” Liam murmurs into Zayn's hair, hands firmly on his waist.

“Happy new year,” Zayn echoes, pressing a peck to Liam's flushed cheek.

“You never answered my question,” Liam reminds.

Zayn smiles. “Yes.”

~*~

“That's totally offensive pass interference,” Niall yells, standing abruptly to point at the TV. He turns to Liam for back up.

“I'd say so,” Liam nods, playing with Zayn's rings absently.

Niall sits back down with a huff, squashing Harry's foot and causing him to yelp.

“What's ‘offensive pass interference?’” Zayn whispers to Liam.

“That's when the wide receiver messes with the tight end that's covering him too much,” Liam whispers back, drumming on Zayn's legs lightly as they drape across his lap.

“Ah,” Zayn nods. “I'm getting better, I think.”

“Definitely,” Liam agrees with a smile.

“You all are sickening,” Louis grumbles from where he's sitting alone on the other side of the couch, arms crossed.

“Don’t be sour just cuz El’s got the flu,” Harry says.

Louis mutters something incoherent as he grabs the plate of pizza rolls.

“You know I've never watched the Super Bowl,” Zayn mentions to Liam.

Liam pauses. “For real?”

“Well, I've watched the halftime shows,” Zayn shrugs. “But, I mean, I never really had any reason to watch it.”

“Not even for the guys in tight pants?”

He shrugs again. “I mean, I can just go to the ballet if I wanted to see that.”

"True," Liam concedes. “But still.”

Zayn snorts. “Just be happy I'm watching it now.”

“Oh please, you love football now.”

Zayn chuckles, watching as the ref calls something about a “false start”. “Not true. But I'll pretend for you.”

Liam laughs, squeezing Zayn's side. “I think we've had enough pretending.”

Zayn couldn't agree more.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys at prom.

“This is stupid.”

“Just because you don’t like something doesn’t make it stupid,” Liam sighs, but he’s smiling.

“I just don’t get it,” Zayn shrugs, shifting his arms slightly where they lay draped around Liam’s neck. “All of the…pomp and circumstance.”

“Pomp and Circumstance?” Liam grins under a confused brow. “That comes in May, doesn’t it?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and bites away a smile of his own. “You know what I meant.”

Liam’s palms are warm as they press into the pockets above Zayn’s hips. Zayn’s never been one for dancing, but as they sway together at the edge of the dance floor, he’s actually kind of enjoying himself. Although, to be fair, he’d enjoy himself anywhere if Liam was standing in front of him.

It’s kind of hard to slow dance to this upbeat music, but Zayn only agreed to dancing if it was slow because, for one, Liam would lead so Zayn wouldn’t look like a fool and two, he likes being this close to Liam. Liam’s breath is still sweet from the mint after dinner and it’s warm against Zayn’s cheek. Zayn can’t help but smile a little as he brushes a thumb over the short hairs on the back of Liam’s neck.

There’s a flash of blonde, and suddenly Niall’s by their side, nearly sloshing his drink all over himself. Harry skids up next to him in his shiny new shoes.

“Did you guys know they’ve got unlimited Shirley Temple’s at the bar?” Niall mentions excitedly. “I think I’ve had six already.”

“Seven,” Harry corrects.

“Either way, it’s amazing,” Niall grins.

“Leave some for us,” Liam jokes, thumb stroking Zayn’s side absently.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Harry mutters to them before following Niall, who’s found another person to share the good news with.

Liam turns back to Zayn, and Zayn doesn’t even pretend that he hadn’t been staring at Liam’s side profile the entire time, tracing the laugh lines around his eyes and the soft edge of his scruff-covered jaw. That’s the good thing about a real relationship, he thinks. No more pretending.

“I’m glad we’re really dating now,” Liam mentions, as if reading Zayn’s mind.  
Zayn cocks his head in interest.

“You know I had half a mind to ask you to prom last semester,” Liam chuckles, and even in the swirling lights Zayn can see the slight pink tinge to the boy’s cheeks.  
“During the project. Didn’t know if things would work out afterwards, and I needed a prom date. Eventually.”

Zayn lets out a laugh. “Li, you could’ve asked anyone and they would’ve said yes.”

“But I wanted to ask you, donut,” Liam smiles, pressing his forehead to Zayn’s.

“Well, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Zayn mentions.

Liam hums contently, pecking Zayn lightly on the nose.

“You look very handsome, by the way,” Zayn comments, fixing the lapel on Liam’s tux just slightly. Another reason he agreed to come.

“I know, you’ve already told me that like five times,” Liam chuckles, although his blush is back. “What, am I normally so horrible looking that the minute I slap on a tux I’m suddenly handsome?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “No. I’m just so used to seeing you in plaid button ups and sweaty t-shirts. You clean up nice.”

He puffs his chest out a little at that. “Well, thanks. You do too. I must admit I’m a sucker for a man in a suit.”

Zayn bites his smile. “Aren’t we all.”

He sees it, the little glint in Liam’s eye that tells Zayn he’s got an idea brewing. Zayn waits, watching Liam formulate his plan.

“Bet we could get a stall all to ourselves,” he mentions with a suggestive cock of an eyebrow.

Zayn gives him a look, even though he really wishes for once he could not think rationally. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Li? This place is swarming with chaperones.”

“They’ll be busy with the coke bust in the girls’ room,” Liam reminds.

He really should say no, but Liam’s lips look so tempting as he really is sexy as fuck in this suit. Like, next James Bond sexy.

“Okay,” Zayn agrees, letting Liam slip his hand in his, “but me first.”

Liam grins. “Deal.”


End file.
